


Can’t Kiss a Coffee Drinker

by kidcantergreatly



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: But nothing particularly explicit, Gak is also an absolute disaster bi, Gakupo is a tattoo artist, I said this was going to be a slow burn, It isn’t sorry, Kaito works in a music store, Multi, Some mature elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23663113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcantergreatly/pseuds/kidcantergreatly
Summary: Kaito has been laying low for a few years to escape a past indiscretion that tarnished his reputation. A trip to a tattoo studio changes that, and his quiet life begins to break apart as he falls madly in love with someone he knows he shouldn’t involve himself with, lest he ruin another person's career.
Relationships: Kagamine Len/Kaito, Kaito/Kamui Gakupo, Kamui Gakupo/Megurine Luka
Comments: 12
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

In the four months that I have been officially dating Len, I can’t say that impulsively getting his tongue pierced on an early Monday evening was a particularly strange occurrence. That being said, I must admit that the ride over on the packed train with our work clothes on, heading to inner city Oykot, was not what I wanted to do this evening. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to run home and grab something for dinner before Len began whining that I was taking too long, and that I was ruining his evening.

I can’t say that I complained about having to stand as close to him as I did the entire ride here. It would all be for naught, sadly, as I was sure that after getting a piercing in such a sensitive area, Len would not be interested in stopping by my apartment for a few hours. Admittedly, twenty minutes would suffice, but that is irrelevant. My boyfriend would not be stepping foot in my bedroom for at least a few days, at best. 

As we stepped off the train, he looked at me with a suspicious expression, though I can’t tell why. I take a sip of my coffee while I try to match his expression.

“Kaito.”

I feel my knees go weak at the sound of my name rolling off his tongue, and nearly choke on my coffee in response.

“Do you have something you need to say?” He asks as we begin walking through the crowded station, trying to avoid the men in their suits and the women trudging with their uniform heels.

“No, no,” I responded, hoping that I wasn’t making it a bit too obvious that I was internally lamenting that we wouldn’t fall into the throes of passion this evening. “I am just a bit tired, that’s all.” I took another sip of my coffee while laughing a bit awkwardly.

“Your face says otherwise.” He runs his fingers through his hair, looking about the station to find the exit. “If you have something you want to talk about, you ought to spit it out now. I doubt I will be talking on the way home.”

“I was just thinking about you, that’s all.” I tried to make it seem a bit more romantic than my initial thoughts were, but I must have been failing at that based on the look on Len’s soft, porcelain face. Instead of explaining further, I decided to change the subject, in the hopes that I could avoid discussing intimate things in public. “What on earth compelled you to get your tongue pierced anyway?”

“Work,” He pulled me by my sleeve into the opposite direction we were walking, nearly causing me to trip a girl in a high school uniform. “They want me to shift into an edgier look. Boss said I am growing a bit too much into my face to go for the cute thing much longer.”

“So you decided to pierce your tongue for that?” I waved to the girl in the uniform, trying my best to apologize while I kept up with Len. “You’re only at work thirty hours a week.”

“I take my job as a host pretty seriously, babe,” He gives me a rather devious smile, “You of all people should know that.”

I didn’t know what was worse; that he called me babe in a public place or that he was saying, rather loudly and against my wishes, that he worked as a host. I don’t look down on his profession. It’s quite the contrary; we wouldn’t have met if he worked anywhere else, admittedly. The problem was that he was a popular host. So much so that he was nearly recognized by strangers anytime we went out. It was hard enough to get him out of character as it was, but when someone approached him, he was immediately in host mode again, and I would suddenly become a character in his charade. One that wasn’t supposed to be his boyfriend, considering cultural restraints. 

“I am just concerned that you’re making a bit of a rash decision,” I tried my best to keep up with him, though my focus was on trying not to trip over my feet or spill my coffee while desperately hoping that my face doesn’t turn the terrible shade of red that often accompanies Len’s use of pet names. “You could use a fake piercing, no? One of those adjustable rings?” 

“Nope,” Len replied, slipping the two of us through the sliding doors and on to the street. “I have been wanting to get it pierced since I was in school.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.” I murmured, mainly to myself.

“Besides,” Len dragged me beside him and whispered, “You’ll appreciate it later.”

The blush I was trying to hide before now spread to my ears. I couldn’t bring myself to continue the topic, knowing that Len was infamous for flustering me to the point of sadistic animal intent. “Where is this place that you wanted to get it done?”

“A few blocks from here, I think.” We walked to a less populated part of the street so he could reestablish his bearings. “It’s by Love’s Clover.”

”That’s at the end of the street.” I nod by head in the direction of the large sign in the distance. 

“Oh,” Len cocked his head to the side. “So you know where the rival club is, do you?”

“Don’t start.” I sigh, taking the time to admire Len’s uniform for a moment. It looked a bit like a boy’s school uniform, but it was too tight and his shorts a bit too short to be sensible. I loved it, undeniably, but I wished he would have at least changed before we got here. I was lucky enough that he was willing to wear my coat over his shoulders, considering the cool October air, but he still managed to be a bit too eye-catching, and I knew that anyone who manages to be a patron of Task would recognize him immediately. “I used to work at the coffee shop next door. I’ve already told you that.”

“Is that where your caffeine addiction started?” Len asked, starting towards the end of the street. 

“No,” I sipped my coffee again unconsciously after the comment. “That was when I was attending university.”

“How many cups a day do you drink?”

“I don’t keep count.”

“That can’t be healthy for you.”

“You’re not healthy for me.” I instantly regretted saying that when I saw the satisfied smile on his face.

The place Len led me to didn’t have a sign, and we had to enter from a narrow staircase and a dimly lit landing. I would have scolded him if he didn’t kiss me before we walked in. Crafty little brat.

I was released when we walked into a brightly lit studio with white walls and a light wooden floor. At the entrance, a girl with pink hair sat behind a tall desk, stirring a cup of tea and flipping through a textbook. She had a warm smile when she looked up at us. 

“Hey there,” She said as she stood up, putting the palms of her hands on the desk to balance herself. I noticed immediately that her forearms were covered in beautifully intricate tattoos. Delicate lines forming flowers that I couldn’t name and insects I wouldn’t want to encounter in reality. “Can I help you?”

“I called earlier, are you Luka? The one I made the appointment with?” Len managed to sound so confident when meeting strangers. I wouldn’t have had the ability to utter a word without stuttering when faced with a human as lovely as this young lady. 

“Oh yeah, you called on Fukase’s phone, right? His co-worker?” She was nearly as bubbly as Len. 

“Yeah, Len.” He laughed. 

“I don’t remember seeing you there. Were you working last Thursday?” She began tying her hair up with a band from her wrist, pushing the loose sleeve of her shirt up, revealing more of her tattooed arms. 

“No, I don’t work Thursdays. Sorry to disappoint.” I would assume that Len was flirting with her if he were someone else, but I knew it was his typical act to gain another patron, though it was weak. 

“Bummer,” Luka clicked her tongue. “You’re cute. I would have had a pretty good time with the two of you.” She then turned her attention to me. “Do you work with them too?”

I shake my head, a bit too quickly. “No, just a, uh, friend of Len’s.” I don’t like the way the words fall out of my mouth, but I’m fortunate they come out at all. 

“Huh. You’re pretty enough to be one, but maybe you’re a bit more sensible than us artsy types.” She picks up her tea and takes a sip. I mirror the action with my coffee in hopes of hiding my inability to accept a compliment. 

“He’s a musician,” Len stuck his tongue, “He’s just as bad as the rest of us.” 

I narrow my eyes at him, and he replaces the faux disgust with a Cheshire smile. 

“You too?” Luka returns her attention to me. “What do you play?”

“Most things.” Len replies. “He works at the music store near Task. Gives private lessons too.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ooo,” She winks at me. “Maybe I need to work on my guitar skills a bit.”

“Right.” I don’t know how to respond to this kind of attention. If I were straight, it might have been more of a problem, but it still left me a bit restless, knowing that I would be going home alone tonight. 

“The artist is with another client at the moment, finishing up a tattoo.” She gestures at the paper screen wall separating us from a continuous buzzing sound and silhouette of a person hunched over another. 

“That works.” Len smiled. “No rush.”

”Can I interest you in something this evening? Maybe your ears? You could match Len, here.” Luka turned to me again, taking her seat once again.

“No, thank you.” I ducked my head and followed Len to the chairs in a makeshift waiting area, desperately hoping she wouldn’t push the topic. Instead, she returns to her textbook. 

“You should get your ears pierced.” Len whispers to me, leaning towards me. “I think it’d look pretty hot.”

“Cut it out.” I whisper back to him, “I am not getting my ears pierced. My boss would kill me.” 

“Right,” He reaches over and tugs on my tie a bit, “You’re a professional.”

“Len,” I look over to Luka to ensure she isn’t watching, then grasp his hand on my tie a bit tighter than I want, and through gritted teeth. “Public. We’re in public.”

He rolls his eyes, releasing my tie and sitting back in his chair, and immediately pulls out his phone. I sigh and lean away from him, hoping he wouldn’t try anything else for the time being. 

“We can’t all flirt with people for a living.” I say into my hand, hoping that no one could hear me.

I realized that I was wrong to assume that Len would be so kind, as he appeared to be some kind of spiteful exhibitionist. 

When my phone vibrated I found:

_I love it when you get riled up. ;)_

I glared at him as the second message came in.

 _And, I don’t flirt with people. I tease them._

I made a point of turning my phone off so that Len could see that I wouldn’t see anything else he sent me, though I suspected he wouldn’t stop. 

At this time, a low voice spoke on the other side of the screen, informing whoever else was there that their tattoo was done. After a few moments, the two emerged. 

The first, a girl with Green hair, held up her shirt, looking at the apparently plastic wrapped ink mess that rested on her hip. I couldn’t tell what the shape was, but I hoped that it was something distinguishable. She thanked the figure that stood behind her, still a shadow on the screen wall. She then walked over to Luka, pulling her wallet out of her purse. 

When the second figure emerged, I found my jaw slack unconsciously, my nearly-empty coffee slipping out of my limp hand. I’m glad I was able to grip it tighter before it managed to fall to the floor. 

I don’t believe I had seen such a beautiful human in quite a long time. He was tall, thin, and sharp. He stretched his arms above his head, the shirt he wore sliding up his stomach, which was soft and pale. When he dropped his arms he moved to pull his long purple hair out of it’s pony tail to fall around his shoulders, then took off the glasses that were sliding off his thin nose. He was lovely; so unfortunately lovely that I felt as if Len would sense my sudden, gut-wrenching attraction to him. The young man that I called my boyfriend couldn’t compare to the other. 

Luckily, Len appeared to be admiring the man to the same degree that I was, making me feel a bit less guilty about staring, though the expression on Len’s face was a bit too obviously predatory. The same way he looked at me when we met outside of the club for the first time. How unsettling. 

“Be careful with that one, Gumi, dear,” His voice was the low one that I had heard earlier; deep enough to drown in. “I don‘t want to touch up this one right off.”

“It was one time, Gak, I know how to take care of a tattoo.” The girl with the green hair rolled her eyes.

“Alright,” The man with the purple hair put his hands up in defeat as he walked over to the front desk and leaned on it, “So, I won’t have anything to fix in our next appointment? I’m just going to add on to it, right?”

The girl with the green hair stuck her tongue out at the man, then said, “You don’t have to give me a hard time, you know. You could just be nice.” She then handed a large bill to Luka.

“I am being nice to you. I am just trying to make this cheaper for you.” The man had an attractive smile on his lips. “As a friend.”

“If all of my friends were like you, I would be broke and broken-hearted, you soul-sucker.” The green haired girl didn’t seem to be particularly fond of her tattoo artist. 

“Agreed.” Luka chimed in, handing the green haired girl her change.

“Now, now, you two.” The man with the purple hair rubbed the back of his neck, “No need to be so wounding.”

“I’ll see you guys this weekend for the show. Don’t forget it.” And without saying goodbye, the girl ran out the front door as she pulled the strap of her purse over her head. 

“That girl…” The man with the purple hair mumbled under his breath while putting his glasses back on, then turned his attention to Len and I. I couldn’t help but notice how mischevious his sharp features looked when he wore such an expression. Much like a fox of folklore; he was beautiful enough to shapeshift and trick someone as weak as myself. When he spoke again, I could feel myself hold my breath. 

“Who is getting their tongue pierced today?”

“That would be me.” Len slipped my coat off his shoulders and tossed it on my lap, leaving himself dressed in the all-too scandalous uniform of his in front of someone that managed to catch both of our attention. Maybe I should have been jealous, but I couldn’t blame him; I would have done the same thing if I were him. I might just get my tongue pierced at this rate. It’s not like my students would see it anyway…

The man turned his attention from Len to me and my throat constricted in a way that I hadn’t expected.

“Did you have an appointment, too?” The man turned to Luka. “I don’t remember having such a tight schedule.”

I tried to speak up, but the words were stuck beneath the lump in my throat. 

“He’s with me.” Len replied when he heard the muffled sounds that came from my mouth. 

The man made an affirming noise. “So, you want to watch, is that it?”

My eyes grow wide at that man’s playful tone. “No, no, that’s not it-“

“It’s alright, I understand. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve pierced before an onlooker. People can’t help but be morbidly curious about it putting holes in places they shouldn’t be. Luka had quite the audience for hers, didn't you, dear?”

Luka stuck her tongue to display the aforementioned piercing. A lovely tongue for a lovely figure, I suppose. I wish I could enjoy this image more, but I was more interested in the man making incorrect assumptions of me, of course. 

“You’re more than welcome to watch.” The man smiled, then turned back to Len. “My name is Gakupo, by the way. Is this your first time getting a piercing that isn’t on your ears?”

“Is that obvious?” 

“Well, I don’t see any on your face, but I can’t say that’s the only place people would have piercings.” Gakupo (what an appropriate name) smiled a wicked smile. 

“No, I can’t say I do,” Len purred, “I suppose you’ll be giving me my first.” 

Gakupo and Luka laughed a bit too loudly while I felt my blush rise at my boyfriend’s forwardness with this attractive stranger. 

“That’s not the first time you’ve heard that, is it, Gak?” Luka sighed, adjusting her shirt that began slipping off, revealing that the tattoos on her arms drifted across her shoulders. I wish I could just be enchanted by her. She certainly deserved it. 

“I’ll assume that’s a compliment,” Gakupo stretched his arms again until somewhere on his figure cracked. “Well, let’s get this going, shall we?” I was jealous that Len was able to enjoy Gakupo’s cunning gaze in that moment. I would get anything pierced at this rate to have this stranger look at me in that way. 

Len didn’t reply; he only walked ahead of Gakupo in the coy way only someone of his stature and disposition could achieve. In the way that I enjoyed watching even in this moment, in front of an audience. I couldn’t help but stare at Len as he disappeared behind the screen. It was just distracting enough to remain ignorant to the tattoo artist’s gaze on me. 

“You don’t want to watch?” Gakupo tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms. 

I cleared my throat, my legs moving faster than my mind, and stalked over to follow Len. I made a point of walking as closely to Gakupo as possible without it seeming unnatural. I tried my best not to stare into his purple eyes or at the smirk on his lips before I slipped to the other side of the screen. 

Gakupo followed behind me, a bit closer than I would have expected from a stranger, but the closeness wasn’t unwarranted. I wouldn’t have minded if we were closer. 

I hadn’t expected how empty this space would be considering how tight the waiting area of the studio was. There was a sturdy chair in the center of the space, and a few tables on wheels with too many drawers to imagine that there was something in each. On the wall, there was a beautiful array of lovely and intricate drawings. All of them with dark lines that depicted images from flowers to geometric shapes. I recognized some of the flowers and insects from Luka’s arms on this wall, making it obvious that Gakupo must have been the person to have completed them. 

“Take a seat in the chair… I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for your name. What is it?” I stood in the corner as Gakupo walked over to one of the tables and grabbed a pair of black rubber gloves. As he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, I noticed that the tattoo artist didn’t have any ink on his arms as I would have expected. 

“It’s Len.” My boyfriend winked at me, as he took a seat in the chair, settling comfortably in its faux-leather upholstery. 

“Len,” Gakupo rolled the name in his mouth for a moment, then nodded. “That’s nice. It’s simple, though enough to leave an impact. I like it.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up, aren’t you?” Len snickered, watching as Gakupo pulled the gloves over his hands.

“You’re already here,” Gakupo walked to Len’s side and tilted his head up towards him using a finger under Len’s chin. “What do I need to convince you of?”

I would have melted if I were my boyfriend, but he kept his cool demeanor. I didn’t think I would be jealous of Len’s profession in the past, but at this moment of time, I realized the advantage of leading people on for a living when it came to interacting with attractive people. All I could do in this moment was hopelessly sip at my now empty coffee cup. 

“Do open your mouth; I need to make sure it’s suited for this.” 

I desperately wished Len wouldn’t have opened his mouth in such a lewd way. I could only handle so much and the damn kid knew that. 

“A lovely tongue. Perfect for a piercing.” Gakupo pushed Len’s chin up to close the other’s mouth, unfazed by the crude action. “I have a feeling you might have known that, though. Is that what brought you here today?” 

“I’m doing it for work,” then Len added in a sarcastic tone, “And a little pleasure, I suppose.”

I looked towards Luka at the front desk to avoid making eye contact with the other men, feeling a bit too hot under my collar while in a public place. I’m glad Luka was still reading and wouldn’t notice my gaze and probably pained expression. 

“That’s the best reason for a piercing, pleasure.” Gakupo’s tone brought my attention back to him, though I carefully avoided turning my gaze towards them. “I would never recommend a piercing to someone all business.” 

“That doesn’t seem like a sound business practice.” Len laughed. 

“I’ll manage.” Gakupo laughed back. 

I made a mistake by following Len this evening. 

“You’re missing all the fun by looking away.” I realized that Gakupo was talking to me, and I looked at him, startled. His smile dropped when I looked at him. “Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine.” I sighed, turning back to the others. I could tell that Len understood me well enough to know he was getting me riled up, based on the smug expression on his face. 

“Luka, dear,” Gakupo called out, “A bucket, please. I’m not sure if the young man with the blue hair will make it.”

“Young man?” Len replied, laughing as Gakupo tried to mark his tongue with what appeared to be a marker. 

I glared at him as Gakupo clicked his tongue.

“He’s certainly younger than me.” the artist held a mirror up to Len to show him the placement. “We can’t all keep our boyish charms.”

“You are not older than Kaito,” Len inspected his tongue in the mirror, nodding to affirm the mark was in the proper spot. “There is absolutely no way you’re older than him. No one is older than him.”

Gakupo looked over to me as he set his instruments on the table. “I can see why you spend time with him, Kaito. He’s charming.”

“If you’d believe it...” I mumbled, trying to hide how thrilled I was to hear Gakupo say my name. Luka came over with what looked like an empty bathroom trash can. I gave her a small, sheepish smile as she placed it by the screen dividing the studio. She smiled warmly back at me in a way that expressed that this certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened.

“Alright,” Gakupo picked up a pair of forceps and turned back to Len, “Are you ready?”

“So long as you're gentle.” Len leaned towards him, sticking his tongue out. I unconsciously took a step towards the two to watch the strangely intimate display. 

“As you wish,” Gakupo’s voice is as low and as playful as Len’s, “Especially since you asked so politely.”

Watching Gakupo grab Len’s tongue and pull it slightly out of his mouth was fascinating in the most obnoxiously erotic of ways. I hadn’t anticipated that I would actually find this experience riveting, but the second Gakupo brought out the first needle, a familiar warmth pooled in my stomach, and the anticipation became unbearable. 

The way that Len’s face scrunched up when the first needle went through his tongue was terrifying yet so unbelievably satisfying that I felt like my legs were going to give out beneath me, leaving me a floundering mess. I gained my composure when the second needle went through, and finally was able to breathe again when the barbelle was put in place. 

Gakupo’s hands worked so quickly I would have argued that a machine had done the piercing. It was quick, and despite Len’s over dramatic flair, it appeared to be relatively painless. Though, arguably, Len was able to handle quite a bit of pain, not that I would ever admit in such company that I knew that.

A tongue piercing wouldn’t be too bad right now, would it? Is it too late to make the appointment?

Gakupo tossed the used needles into a bag and held the mirror in front of Len, who, though a bit shocked, managed to lean in and look his tongue over. The piercing suited him well enough. Infact, I found it suddenly extremely attractive, though that might have been related to the fact that I just watched this process happen between two extremely attractive men. What is someone with weak sensibilities such as myself to do?

Luka walked in again, this time holding a bottle of water. 

“Oh, that looks so cute.” She smiled, handing the water to Len. “This will help with the burning.”

It looked like Len tried to reply, but he couldn’t manage to get his tongue to move with the words. It was rather endearing to see him speechless for once. 

“You did rather well,” Gakupo used to move Len’s face around to inspect the piercing, “Be careful with your teeth. The more you hit the bar, the more it’s going to hurt as it heals. From what I’m seeing, it should heal perfectly, though I would advise you to follow the usual precautions. Get yourself a new toothbrush, rinse your mouth with saltwater a few times a day, and don’t do anything exciting with your mouth for four weeks, got it?” 

I tried not to grimace at that timeline. 

Len nodded, finally putting his tongue back in his mouth. His usually expressive face was rather subdued, leaving him with a rather childish beauty that drew me to him in the first place. His features were so soft, lightly tinted with the red blush that came from processing the situation, his blue eyes wide as he explored his own mouth, the barbell running along his teeth and cheeks. I could almost mistake him for the soft and innocent creature he portrayed himself at the club. I knew much better than to allow myself to do that, but the idea of having such an innocent thing at my disposal was an exciting fantasy. 

Gakupo walked to the front of the studio, then returned with a couple of business cards, handing one to Len, then to me. 

“My work here is done.” Gakupo announced as he handed the card to me, “If anything happens to him this evening, give me a call, since I suspect he wouldn’t be able to speak as clearly. The number is my cell, so I suppose you could text me as well, if the respectable Kaito doesn’t accompany you for the rest of the evening.” The last comment was directed at Len, who was now standing up.

He bowed and managed to spit out a few words of appreciation before he went up to the front desk to pay for the service.

“You should consider getting a piercing,” Gakupo returned his attention to me. “Or, a tattoo, if you’re daring. Your virgin skin would be a dream to work with. Just the right complexion for something with a bold outline. A tongue piercing wouldn’t be a terrible idea either.”

“I wouldn’t be able to play with a tongue piercing.” I said to keep myself from agreeing on the spot.

“Are you a musician?” Light surprise fell over Gakupo’s sharp features as he tilted his head to the side.

“I am.” I sighed, wishing I hadn’t replied at all.

“What instruments?” He seemed to be genuinely interested. If he was feigning interest, I certainly couldn’t tell. 

“Anything, at this rate.” The response was a bit too cocky for my tastes, but it was easier than explaining that I have done nothing but learn how to play any instrument I could get my hands on since I was six.

“Really? Pray tell.” He crossed his arms, an action that I couldn’t tell if it came from a genuine place or a sense of disbelief.

Before I could answer, Luka came to the back with a cellphone in her hands. “It’s Gumi. She said she made a mistake but she won’t tell me what it was.”

“What?” Gakupo’s expression shifted to a concerned one. “It hasn’t even been an hour yet. What on earth could she have done?”

Luka shrugged, holding the phone out to Gakupo, who took it and said, “Give me a second.” He pulled the phone away from his face and gave me a warm smile. “Give me a call sometime. I would love to discuss this a bit further.”

I just nodded as he walked away, beginning to take the phone call. With my attention open, I noticed Len standing by the door, watching me expectantly. I thanked Luka as I rushed by her and hurried to meet Len at the door. 

As we exited, he gave me a wily smile through his discomfort.

“What?” I replied, unsure of what part of that mess he was so content with.

“Luka said that you’re his type.”

Despite the sloppy, swollen words, I nearly stopped walking when I realized why he had said that. A mix of embarrassment and excitement peppered the words I tried to cool the situation with.

“That’s nice.”I leaned in and kissed his cheek as soon as we were about to turn onto Main Street. He gave me a disapproving, afflicted groan in response, though I don’t care at the moment. Knowing that I could be the “type” to someone as ethereal as Gakupo was enough to get me through the dry few weeks ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

I texted Gakupo on a Thursday night. It had been, what, three days? All I could handle was a few days of being ignored by Len and constantly thinking about the tattoo artist before I finally broke down and sent him a message. Discipline is not a word in my vocabulary.

I spent all day crafting what I would say and how I would approach this. Would it be better to send him a casual text, ask him how he was doing and ask him out to lunch to continue our interrupted conversation? No, that would have been far too easy. 

Instead, I decided to dig my hole deeper. 

_ I think I’m going to take you up on the tattoo offer.  _

I regretted the message as soon as I sent it, but the mix of anticipation and embarrassment had not kept me from making an absolute shell of a self when he hadn’t responded in two hours. I sent the message at seven, and I had been lying in my bed in my studio apartment, staring at both the alarm clock on my nightstand and my ceiling for hours. 

Staring at the ceiling like this wasn’t something odd or out of my range of existence. When I began living alone in my third year at university, I spent so much time staring at this ceiling, trying desperately to determine what I would do next when everything had changed. It was comforting, I suppose. This apartment complex was odd, every room painted in odd colors. The ceiling was light pink, the walls a shade of blue so light it could be almost considered white. I wanted to paint everything a different color from the first moment I moved in, but I’ve always assumed I would finally have the opportunity to move from here. Now, the colors were too familiar to change. Right now, I felt the need to throw up with the stress tightening a knot in my stomach.

When I looked back to my clock, the number changed to 9:15 as I stared at it, and I nearly lost hope. 

I’m absolutely miserable when I’m ignored. I had sent a total of fifteen messages to Len since I saw him last, and he replied to two. Maybe I was being unreasonable; he was still young and had an extensive social life. I’m sure getting a hold of his boyfriend was low on his list of priorities. It was his day off, though, and I had hoped he would have at least answered me this evening. One message would suffice, and it didn’t even have to say anything really. I just wanted to know he wasn’t ignoring me on purpose. 

I looked at the clock again, the time changed to 9:16. I should pick up my guitar or brush up on my keyboard, but inspiration didn’t strike me. Instead, I felt it was fair to send one more message to Len, to at least let him know I would be going to sleep soon. I turn to grab my phone again.

At that moment I realized that my mistake was that I hadn’t put tone up on my phone. 

Twenty minutes ago, I had a couple of messages from a number that I hadn’t saved in my phone, but I recognized because I had repeated the number a thousand times before I managed to send the initial message earlier to ensure I sent it to the right person. 

_ I believe this is Kaito, right? I don’t believe I’ve offered any other tattoos recently.  _

The second message read, 

_ Are you free for a consultation tomorrow night? Maybe around eleven? I’m booked until then.  _

I couldn’t help but reread the messages twenty times, analyzing every word used to indicate some kind of secret code between the letters that would alert me that this was some kind of cruel joke. My broken spirit revived itself as soon as I realized that Gakupo not only replied to the message I sent him, but also made a plan to meet me, even if it was for a consultation for a tattoo I really didn’t want. I replied as quickly as my fingers would let me to confirm the appointment.

I also noticed that ten minutes ago Len had also messaged me, as if he had known that Gakupo had messaged me. 

_ Rin is staying at a friend’s house tonight. Come over.  _

I bolted out of bed, grabbed my coat, and was out the door heading to Len’s apartment in a staggering three minutes. 

…

I had hoped that spending the night with Len last night would curb some of the overwhelming excitement I felt about meeting with Gakupo this evening, but as I was sitting in Cafe Milky just down the street from the studio, I found myself nearly shaking after my third cup of coffee. I wish I could blame it on the caffeine.

It’s typically a quiet and unassuming spot, open late six days a week. At the moment, I was surrounded by young adults, all reading and discussing class assignments, leaving me with the unsettling feeling of being out of place. I didn’t want to be here, per se, but I had to, since this was the only place I could wait for the consultation. I wasn’t willing to go home after work then pay taxi fare twice to get to this side of town. A trip on the train here from the music shop, then I would call a taxi home when the consultation was over. Seemed simple enough.

This cafe had opened right when I graduated from high school, and I had worked here for my last two years of university, which I realized was long ago enough now that there was only one employee that I recognized. 

Meiko walked over with a pot of coffee and a condescending expression. 

“You don’t want another one, do you?”

I once thought that I was in love with Meiko. We started working at Milky at the same time. She was a singer at a nightclub in the evenings and she would convince the club to hire me as their pianist every so often. She was unbelievably attractive and incredibly talented. We hooked up from time to time, but something was always off. She was the first person I came out to, while nearly blackout drunk as we watched the sunrise on a Sunday morning after a gig. 

She still performed on occasion, when she had the time. I had gone to see her perform a couple of weeks ago, though she was too exhausted to meet with me after. She was the manager here by day, after all. 

“Oh, no,” I replied, emphasizing that I was still working on my current cup. “Thank you.”

She took a seat across from me, leaving the coffee pot on the table. “Why are you on this side of town?”

“I have an appointment.” I sipped the coffee, hoping she wouldn’t pry, but that would go against everything I knew about her. 

“At this hour? For what?” She straightened out the drooping flowers in a vase on the table. 

I sighed, considering if I should tell her the truth. She’d know if I was lying to her. 

“It’s a tattoo consultation.” I muttered, grabbing the coffee pot to top off my cup to avoid looking Meiko in the eye. 

“What?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned in towards me, her voice in a whisper. “Are you an idiot, Kaito?”

I needed her blunt opinion at this point, so her sharp response was a bit of a relief. This was impulsive and stupid. I didn’t want a tattoo. I didn’t need to go talk about tattoos with a handsome stranger this late at night. 

“Probably.” I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “It hasn’t been my most reasonable decision as of late, but it’s only a consultation.” 

“You’re a world-class classical musician. Quoted as being one of the most talented young musicians of our time by esteemed institutions and now you’re going to get a  _ tattoo _ ?” I realized that the expression of disbelief on her face was the most familiar to me. “Where is your head, Kaito?” She leaned in even closer, “Is this because of the incident?”

“No,” I stopped her immediately, trying to avoid this discussion in public, “This has nothing to do with that. I… Wanted to explore a bit.”

“Kaito,” Meiko reached out and put her hand over mine in a comforting, maternal gesture. “You’re recovering, and you have been for a couple of years, but a tattoo is not going to change that.”

I wanted to scoff at the “couple of years” statement, but I didn’t want to discuss how long it had actually been. “The artist is quite talented. I’ve seen his work. It’s elegant.”

“So?” Meiko withdrew her hand and instead wagged her finger at me, “Kaito, I understand that you’re in a rut, or whatever this is, but this a little too irresponsible.”

“It’s just a consultation. I’m not going to get the tattoo tonight.” I realized that the new coffee I add to my cup was scalding hot, but I tried to avoid letting Meiko see that I had burned my tongue, lest she scold me more fervently.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes to ground herself again. 

“Sometimes I don’t understand you.” She sighed, standing up again and grabbing the coffee pot off the table. “You become more unreasonable as you get older. That uncertainty scares me.”

I don’t know what to do in response. Meiko had always been cool and collected, making the most responsible choices in any given situation. I suppose I was the most unstable part of her past. A young man who had slowly begun falling into infamy that drank far too much hard liquor that she just so happened to have a year long affair with. I regret dragging her into my life, as all I managed to do was exhaust her, and as time passes, she has less time to deal with anything as misicule as this. 

I changed the subject instead. “How are Wil and Yuki?”

She smiled at me, maybe as relieved as I am to have the topic changed, “Wil is great. He’s having a bit of a tough transition into fatherhood with work, but I’m so proud of him. And Yuki is perfect; absolutely perfect. A child any mother would dream of having.”

I returned her smile, “I’m glad to hear that. You seem really happy.”

“I am,” her smile dropped as she continued, “I wish I could say the same for you, Kaito.” 

“I know,” I felt a bit guilty for making her worry like this. “I’m working on it, I promise.”

“Alright, I’ll believe you.” Meiko looked over to the till, “I’ve got to get back. Reconsider this whole tattoo idea, please. And if you do get one, just make it small in a place that you can hide, okay?”

“Of course, don’t worry about that. Have a good night.” I said as I watched her walk away. 

That conversation, unfortunately, left me feeling a bit more anxious that I already was, if that were possible. Being reminded of my past was not what I had anticipated happening right before I made another potentially regrettable decision, and now as I tried to sip my coffee as quickly as possible, while the butterflies in my stomach traveled to my throat. 

The time was ten minutes to eleven. I certainly couldn’t be late. 

…

The lights of the studio were much lower than when I visited with Len a few days ago. Gakupo was sitting at the front desk, sipping from a mug with the tag from a tea bag hanging out of it and scrolling through his cellphone. Luka didn’t appear to be here. He put the phone down as soon as I stepped in and closed the door. 

“Kaito,” he looked at the watch on his wrist, “Your timing is impeccable. I just finished with my last client.”

“Thank you for meeting with me so soon,” I bowed slightly, unsure of how to interact with such a casual stranger, “I’m sure you’re busy.”

“It’s of no consequence. I was hoping we’d meet again soon.” Gakupo motioned to the door behind him as he took off his glasses, “Let’s go to the backroom. It’s a bit more comfortable than it is out here.”

I followed him through the door, trying to keep myself calm as his last comment echoed in my ears. We ended up in what looks like a storage closet with an obnoxiously patterned loveseat and an equally ridiculous armchair stuffed in between cardboard boxes and milk crates filled with sterile supplies in plastic bags. 

“Feel free to have a seat,” After he closed the door, he motioned to the loveseat as he passed it, then slipped between a few boxes to look for something that I couldn’t see. “Can I get you something to drink? We have water and green tea. Maybe Jasmine tea, since I bought some last week, but I can’t manage to find it.”

“I’m alright, thank you.” I take my seat on the loveseat, which I sink into a bit too uncomfortably. 

“Right,” He looks around the room, takes a sip of his tea, then moves to take a seat in the armchair across from me. “So, about this tattoo, what are you interested in? I noticed that you had seen some of my flash sheets, but I would prefer to do something a bit more personal, if you have something in mind.”

I hadn’t even considered that I would have to come up with something. I figured he would just hand me a book and tell me how much the bloody thing would be, rather than making me actually consider this decision thoroughly. I wouldn't even know where to begin. At this rate, I might as well just tattoo “dummy” on my forehead and call it a day. It would certainly suit me. 

“I’m a little indecisive.” It wasn’t a lie; it just happened to be that this wasn’t the answer to that particular question. 

“This is your first tattoo?” Gakupo’s face was deliciously soft at this moment. His expression was so sincere, and his eyes so attentive that I wanted to break under a pressure that had yet to be presented. 

“I’ve never done anything like this.” I leaned back on to stare at the wall just past the other man’s head, trying to avoid eye contact. I suddenly realized how exhausted I felt after working today. My eyes are dry and itchy as I stare ahead of me. 

“No tattoos? Piercings?” Gakupo smiled, “That’s rather exciting.”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Gakupo didn’t reply right away. When we finally made eye contact again, he’s expression had changed to one that was cool and calculated, there was no hint of the smile he had a moment ago. An uncomfortable sound escaped my mouth, which snapped Gakupo from his seriousness. His smile returned as he continued. 

“Where would you like to get it done?” He pushed up his sleeves of his shirt and noticed that I was incorrect about the lack of tattoos on his forearms. 

In white ink, geometric lines connected to one another, creating a nearly invisible pattern of incredibly small octagons. There must have been hundreds of lines in those pieces, so dainty and thin that it must have taken hours on each arm to complete them. I couldn’t help but stare as I stuttered out an incoherent answer. 

“They’re wonderful, aren’t they?” He held up his arms, twisting them to admire every angle of them. “My teacher was a brilliant artist. I worked under him for a while, and every so often he would add a few more lines. It took him four years to finish them.”

“They’re so complex.” I leaned in as he held his arms closer to me.

I reached out and took his wrist in my hands to admire them a bit closer. I hadn’t even realized that I had done it for a few moments. I was completely entranced by the patterns and the width of the lines. I knew nothing about tattoos, but if I could have something like this on my body, I would pay quite a bit. 

It wasn't until I realized just how cool Gakupo’s skin was unter my scalding fingertips did I realize that I had touched the other in the first place. I pulled away immediately, desperately apologizing. 

“No, no, it’s alright. I wouldn’t have shown you in the first place if I didn’t want you to admire them. These were some of Al’s last tattoos before he went into retirement. As strange as it sounds, they’re my prized possessions.” He ran his fingers across the lines for a few moments more, then spoke again. “Nothing’s more permanent than a good memory, but a tattoo is a wonderful reminder.”

“Undoubtedly,” I replied, “Why white ink, though? They’re nearly invisible.”

“That’s what I wanted.” He shrugged, “I something that I and those that are close to me can appreciate. I mean that both literally and figuratively, of course. All of my other ones are black.” He traced his fingers along his upper arm, shoulder, then his chest. “Hours upon hours of work from the other students worked alongside. Those are just as intimate too, I suppose, since I don’t often show them to others.”

“I could imagine they’re just as lovely.” I replied, unsure of what to say. 

“I’ll show you sometime,” he laughed, finishing his cup of tea. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to take my shirt off in the workplace.”

I would have begged to differ at this rate. 

“Now, let keep discussing your tattoo, yes? It’s not fair to make a consultation about the artist. Where would you like it?”

“Somewhere where I could hide it.” I replied, still unwilling to fully consider this whim. “My boss would not appreciate something visible.”

“Where do you work?” 

“I work at a music store.” I resorted to fiddling with the sleeve of my shirt, distracting myself to avoid staring at him any longer. “I’m the owner’s apprentice. He’s going to pass the business on to me when he retires, so professionalism is everything to him.”

“Of course,” Gakupo replies, “There’s still quite a bit of opportunity there, though. One on your upper arms aren’t often visible, even when your sleeves are rolled up. Anywhere below your collarbones on your torso and anything above the ankle would be fair as well. Would you want something large and flashy or something more subdued?”

“Small. Very small.” At least I was able to set some kind of a boundary, but I knew he could change my mind if he really tried.

“Small.” Gakupo repeated, clicking his tongue a few times as he considered it. “My best work is related to flowers. Typically in black, though I could manage color. I’m not a fan of traditional tattoos, admittedly. I could recommend someone if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“No, I would much rather have you do it, thank you.” The words scrambled out of my mouth before I could make them seem a little less desperate. I couldn’t manage to keep myself from looking like a fool in front of him, could I? I was fated to look like an idiot at every turn. 

“I’m flattered. I suppose we’ll have to come up with something, though I would have to get to know you a bit better, won’t I?” The idea of Gakupo learning anything else about me was a bit alarming, but I had the opportunity to control the flow of ideas, right? I didn’t have to tell him everything and I hope to the all-seeing gods that they would allow me to keep myself from oversharing. 

“What would you need to know?” 

He tapped his finger to his lips as he hummed a bit, I continued after a few moments. 

“You mentioned that you’re a musician, right?”

This conversation has already turned into dangerous territory. 

“Yes,” I tried to choose my next words very carefully. “I’ve been practicing since I was six.”

“What do you play?”

He asked me this before, but I gave an obnoxious answer. At least I would get the chance to redeem myself a bit. 

“Mainly string instruments, though I have quite a bit of experience with percussion instruments: drums, xylophone, the like. At the moment, I’m teaching piano, violin, and classical guitar. There are others, I suppose, but those are the ones I feel the most confident in.” 

Wonderful. I managed to make this sound more like a job interview. What was worse; treating a casual conversation seriously or like an arrogant prick? 

“That’s quite the range.” If he was as annoyed with me as I was with myself, he was concealing it well. 

“It’s the only thing I’ve ever done.” 

“Say,” Gakupo tilted his head to the side, his hair falling over his shoulder. It was so long, I could only imagine how satisfying it would be to run my fingers through it. “How about we strike up a deal?”

I perked up a bit, curious as to what he had in mind. 

“I have a show next weekend,” He continued, “And the drummer that usually plays with us is going to be performing overseas. If you fill in for her this weekend, I'll come up with a design, determine the ideal spot for it, and tattoo it all for free. You won’t have to think about it at all.”

This had taken an unexpected turn. While the prospect of spending time like that with Gakupo was satisfying, I hadn’t performed before a crowd in years. I had to reject the offer; there was no way I could do it. I would freeze up. I would play terribly. I’d have a panic attack before the first set. Then, Gakupo would never speak to me again. 

Maybe that was for the best? He had no obligation to keep speaking to me. He had to notice how pathetic I am. He would come to his senses soon enough, and much like the people of my past, he would see through my daily charade. 

How would I reject this? I could insist that I would like to pay for the tattoo. That would show that I’m honorable. I could also tell him that I didn’t want the tattoo anymore and never speak to him again. This would put an end to whatever was happening now, but leave me with the insatiable urge to see him for the rest of my life. I could convince him to tattoo me now, even. Give him some stupid false story about a tacky tattoo that would “mean so, so much to me”, have him do the damn thing now, and I could live in regret for the rest of my life, constantly having to explain this tattoo to whatever lover I managed to coax into my bed, lest it be Len or otherwise. 

“You don’t have to give me your answer now, you can think it over.” Gakupo said after we sat in silence for a bit. “I’m sure it would be advisable to discuss this with your boyfriend, after all.”

“Excuse me?” The term slapped me out of my scheming. 

“Len, right? That’s his name?”

“He’s not my…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it out loud in front of someone that was virtually a stranger.

“Come now, you’re among friends here,” Gakupo motioned to the empty room, “It’s not as if the two of you were hiding it.” 

“We  _ were _ . At least, I thought we were.” I sighed, hiding the color rising in my face with my hands. 

“No straight man looks at a  _ friend _ like that.” The sly smile I had seen when I first met Gakupo spread across lips, emphasizing his likeness to a fox. 

I was at a loss for words, unsure of how to respond to this awkward situation. Instead of admitting that he was right, I stood up and began to walk away, hoping to leave all of this behind me and never, ever face the tattoo artist again. 

In a few moments, I managed to get through the door of the store room, and almost got to the front door before the other man grabbed my wrist, pulling me back gently. I wound closer to Gakupo than I anticipated, nearly chest to chest with him. 

I realized how much taller he was than me, his figure slouched to match my own height. He was much thinner too, his collarbones obvious just beneath the collar of his shirt. I noticed dark lines forming octagons just underneath them, though they were in shadow just enough to have trouble distinguishing them. Those must have been the other tattoos he mentioned. There, though, I noticed that from the space between his collarbones and the hints of those tattoos, reaching down beneath his shirt, there was a straight but thick scar, perfectly dividing his chest. It was old, a pale pink in contrast to his light skin, but it appeared to be deep, the scar tissue stretching further than any simple accident. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in an even tone, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

I was too distracted by our closeness to reply. I wanted to etch him in my memory in the case that I would never see him again. I wanted to remember his apologetic expression; his eyebrows knitted together, his eyes empathetic, and his lips slightly parted. 

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him and push him onto the front desk behind him. I could very well  _ show him _ that I was gay. I could show him how attracted I was to other men by leaving marks on his neck and dragging my fingernails across his thighs. I wanted to be a terrible person in this moment and take advantage of that kind expression he wore.

I wondered if he could tell that the same hungry expression that must have been on my face now was the same I gave Len when he would pass a flirty glance at me the last time we were here together. This desire I felt was intense; much more intense than that of I had felt for Len at any point. Maybe it was the criminal, adulterous tension that I couldn’t shake that was tempting me, or the fact that this man was a complete stranger that just so happened to invite me to this studio when no one else was there. Whatever is was, the fact remained: I wanted to fuck him so terribly that I was becoming dizzy. 

“Do you forgive me?” While childish, the question he asked was genuine. We were closer now; close enough to feel his breath on my face, which was nearly as heavy as my own. 

I needed to do something before I managed to do something much stupider. 

I pulled my arm away as gently as I could and took a step back, my back against the door, just managing to whisper an affirmation as a reply. 

He took a step towards me, closing the distance I had managed to create, “I put a lot of pressure on you, I’m sorry.”

He was putting more pressure on me than he had before, and I hoped he couldn’t tell. 

“Please consider my proposition; you don’t have to answer me now, but I would like you to think it over and get back to me as soon as possible.” He placed his hand on the door beside my head, leaning in towards me again.

Was this supposed to be threatening? Was he threatening me? If he was, why was there so much sexual tension? Was that all in my head? I couldn’t be imagining all of this, could I?

If he was trying to pressure me into it, I hated to say that it was working. 

“I have to think about it.” If I pressed my body any further against the door, I’d fall through it. 

“Good,” I was hoping he would push himself back, but he remained close to me, “I would really love to see you again soon. The show is on Saturday night; we’ll have practice at eight on Friday night at my apartment. The tattoo would be worth it, I promise.”

“Alright,” I had my hand on the door handle. “I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you.” I could have sworn he was going to kiss me, but pushed off the wall, and left some much needed space between us. “You smell like coffee, by the way.”

“You smell like flowers.” I responded, realizing that I had taken in his scent unconsciously. 

He laughed pleasantly, clearing up the remaining tension, allowing me to relax a bit. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was.” I mumbled, my sexual desire shifting to the same awkward way I felt before I tried to leave.

“I think this was a successful consultation; I feel like I know you a bit better. Enough to begin designing that tattoo if you decide to help me.” He reached forward, wrapping his hand around mine that was still on the door knob. He turned the knob, opening the door. “I’d like to see you next Friday. If you decide you don’t want to work with me, please let me know. I would still like to see you, if possible.”

“Okay.” I nodded, pulling my hand away from his, slipping around the door to stand in the doorway. 

“Have a good night, Kaito. Please get home safe.”

“You too.” I grabbed the door, and shut it as soon as I could, finally creating a barrier between us. 

As soon as I managed to close it, a second passed, and I turned to lean up against the door, allowing the remaining excitement to slip out with every deep and calculated breath, ignorant to the fact that Gakupo was doing the same thing on the other side. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a slow-burn story; Gakupo just doesn’t understand personal space.


	3. Chapter 3

I try to count to ten to still my breath and body. It’s difficult in this situation, considering the expression Len is making. With him below me, my arms are weak and I nearly fall on top of him. 

He whispers my name and wraps his arms around my neck, coaxing me to keep going. He’s nearly as desperate as I am, and I can tell from the blush on his face and the way his fingertips press into my skin. I wonder if he’d try to sink his fingernails deep enough to break skin. 

I count to ten again, then continue, hoping he wouldn't melt before I did. 

Despite the movement, I focus on his freckles that he usually covered with makeup on a daily basis. I lose track at seventeen, lost in how lovely his mouth is while it gasps out terrible things, louder than a whisper, but still hushed enough as to not wake my neighbors. He enunciates the two syllables of my name, emphasizing the “o” in a long, drawn out breath as I push him harder. 

I’m closer than I was; too close to stop myself. I tell him by murmuring in his ear breathlessly. His laugh is low and breathy as he pushes me forward, as if he’s mocking me. I wish I didn’t like that. 

I bite down on his shoulder, trying to muffle out the sounds that want to pour out of my throat, as I collapse down to my elbows. My mind is overwhelmed, settling in the pathetic ecstasy I conjured through my partner’s body. 

A few moments pass before I’m able prop myself back up on the palms of my hands. The familiar taste of bitter iron hits me as I lick my lips. I drew a bit of blood with that bite. Not much, but enough to surprise me, as I hadn’t heard a single pained noise from Len. 

“I’m sorry,” I wiped my lips, hoping to remove whatever remained, but I’m sure I just smeared it. “You… I… I couldn’t wait.”

He runs his hand from my neck down my chest, his expression dull. “You never can.”

I lean in and kiss him, slowly tracing his stomach, taking him in my hand. He sighs quietly, making eye contact with me as I touch him. It’s the least I can do at this point. 

He only lasted a few more seconds, slowly falling into a mess similar to my own, my name now peppering obscenities and pleas.

I give him a moment before I move away, the stickiness irritating me as everything begins to dry and itch. I step over to my bathroom quietly, mumbling silent apologies to the people below me for the noise from my ancient, second hand bed frame. 

As I flip up the light switch, I’m offended by both the sudden brightness and my reflection in the mirror. My flush runs from my cheeks to my shoulders and my hair is fluffed up from Len’s hands running through it. In the artificial light, the dark circles under my eyes appear as if I drew them on with a permanent marker. How Len found me attractive, I’ll never know. 

I let the water run as I scrape my hands and arms, letting the water heat up enough to leave my hands red and raw, then throw some on my face to rid some of the blush.

When I walk back out, Len has already thrown on one of my tee shirts and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. He’s checking his phone, his face void of emotion. He slowly puts his phone aside as I sit behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him closer to me as I leave chaste kisses on the back of his neck. 

“You’re beautiful.” I murmur to him, admiring the way his skin glowed in the moonlight falling through my partially closed blinds. 

He laughs as he reaches his arms back, clasping his hands together behind my head. “Keep complimenting me.”

“You’re clever. You’re talented. I can’t stop staring at you when you’re in front of me.” I continue to kiss him between the sentences.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” He nuzzles into my neck, returning my kisses softly on my jaw.

“Of course I do.” 

He doesn’t reply to comments. When he speaks again, he nods his head towards my keyboard in the corner of the room and changes the subject. 

“Play me something.”

“It’s nearly three in the morning. I’ll wake the neighbors.” 

“Quietly,” He turns around in my lap to face me, “One song.”

“Will you stay here for the rest of the night if I do?” I brush his bangs out of his face, noticing signs of his exhaustion. He had worked a double shift today, yet still persisted he would call a taxi and head home soon.

“Rin will worry about me.”

His twin sister doesn’t know that we’re dating. We’ve never met, despite the fact that when Len and I first started seeing each other, we would often hook up almost silently in the apartment the two shared. I have only ever seen her once when I mistakenly walked towards the front door of one evening when she was in the kitchen. I only narrowly managed to avoid being seen by her as she rummaged through the refrigerator in the middle of the night. 

“Tell her you’re with a friend. Give her my number and let her interrogate me. I want to spend the night with you. I’ll play as many songs as you want.”

He considered the offer for a moment, then sighed, “Alright, but just this once.” 

I kissed his forehead, murmuring my thankful sentiments into his hair.

“Now you have to play something for me.” 

I nodded, standing up, putting on a tee shirt and pair of boxers, then sitting at the keyboard. A thin layer of dust coated the keys, the grainy texture irritating me as I adjusted the volume to be barely audible.

When I affirmed that I had managed to bring the instrument to a reasonable sound level to play at three in the morning while living in an apartment complex with paper thin walls, I asked what Len wanted to listen to.

“Something that sounds sad.”

I raised a brow at him. “Why?”

“Sad songs sound nice on the piano.”

I kept myself from telling him that this was not a piano; that it was a synthesizer, and that it wouldn’t sound nearly as nice as it would on an actual piano. Instead, I thought of what I could play that he would recognize. I decided on _Moonlight Sonata,_ because it was easy and well known.

I hadn’t heard him rise from the bed while I was playing, but I stumbled over the keys a bit when he touched my shoulder. He said nothing, quietly observing me as I played, similar to the way he watched me play when we went out on our first “date”.

I saw Len for the first time while he was working. I would often find myself in host clubs to drown the loneliness that had become a normal part of my everyday routine. I would lie and say that I was meeting someone, a girlfriend or an old childhood friend, then play off that I was disappointed that they never showed up to avoid the embarrassment of being an old shut-in that wanted to be surrounded by attractive young men.

On the night that I officially met my boyfriend, I was served by his coworker, Fukase, whose character was a bit too harsh for my taste. Len worked across the room with a group of teenage girls. I spent my time glancing over at him, ignorant to the fact that he noticed.

When I was about to leave, his shift ended, and we met on the sidewalk outside of the cafe. He asked me to take him somewhere and I obliged, knowing that I would only end up going home to an empty apartment anyway.

I took him to a nearby shopping center, where there was a rather obnoxious arcade I assumed he would appreciate. He didn’t seem interested when we walked in, so we wandered about while he talked to me about things that now escape my memory. We managed to end up at a chain music store, where he thought he would impress me with a poorly played rendition of _Fur Elise_ . He asked me if I knew how to play and I admitted that I did. He asked me to play something, so I played an excerpt from _Hammerklavier_ , which I believe led him to agree to come to my apartment the first night I met him. The childish curiosity that replaced his smug arrogance while I played is what convinced me to invite him, after all. 

I told him that I worked in a music store the next time I saw him and I believe he made the comment that he shouldn’t have dragged me to the keyboard the first time we met. I’m still not sure if that was an insult, but I still managed to ignore it, begging him to go steady with me the third time we hooked up. And now, here we were four months later. 

As I continued to play the song, my thoughts continued to drift off while Len traced lazy circles on my shoulder blade. As of late, Len was the only one aside from my students that heard me play. In the past, having such a small crowd would have made me laugh. At the time, I nearly lived on a stage with an audience that stretched long beyond the scope of the lights. I would scoff at a venue that seated less than one hundred. Now I was satisfied with an audience of one that didn’t have any knowledge of music beyond popular tracks that trend on social media. I’m not sure if I could manage more of an audience than that anymore.

Then, I remembered Gakupo’s proposition.

I brought the song to an end, then turned to look up at Len. 

“I was offered to play for a band on Saturday night.” I told him quietly.

“What? By who?” His expression of disbelief was the one I had anticipated.

“By Gakupo, that tattoo artist that pierced your tongue.” 

He played around with the piercing for a moment as if he had forgotten about it. “When did that happen?”

“Friday night,” I realized that if I was completely honest with him I would have to tell him about the tattoo situation. I decided to stretch the story a bit instead. “I told him I was a musician on Monday night, then he asked me to message him about that later. I did and he made the offer. He’s in some kind of a music group.”

“You’re actually going to play in a show in _public_?” He seemed a bit more excited than I thought he would be. 

“I haven’t agreed to it yet, but the offer was made. I believe I'll reject it, though. I just wanted to let you know—“

“You _have_ to do it.”

“What?”

He sat down in my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck, “You absolutely have to do it. I’m dying to see you perform in front of other people. What’s the point of dating a musician if you keep your talents locked away?”

I wanted to believe that this was a sweet sentiment, but I could tell that this was part of some selfish desire of his to show off. I know that I wasn’t a particularly interesting person, so this would be the one chance for him to have the chance to brag about me. 

“You have to do it, Kaito,” he repeated with a whine, “I’ll get the night off and come see you. Please, please, _please_ take the gig. I’ll do anything.”

“Is that right?” My words trailed off as my hands worked their way under the shirt he was wearing. 

“You have to promise me.”

“That I’ll play in public?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll play anywhere you want if you come back to bed with me.”

…

The message I sent in bed the next morning was as follows:

_I’m taking you up on your offer. What time do I need to be at your apartment?_

Considering the fact that it was nine in the morning when I looked at my alarm clock, I didn’t expect a reply from a tattoo artist that appeared to be nocturnal.

Before I returned my phone to my bedside table to lay back down with Len, it vibrated, and sure enough, it was Gakupo.

 _Be at my apartment by seven, if you can. I want enough time to introduce you to everyone before practice._

He then attached an address that was close to the studio. 

That was it. I didn’t reply and he didn’t send a confirmation. This was a business proposition that he was taking seriously, which left me with both a sense of relief and disappointment.

I was knocking on Gakupo’s apartment door at 6:56 that Friday evening. I got out of work at 5:15, then I had managed to stop by Cafe Milky for a to-go coffee that I had requested black, but Meiko managed to add some kind of weird barista charm to it, and it was so sweet that the thought alone made my teeth rot. I was surprised to make it on time, admittedly, but here I was, nervously drinking this sugar bomb while trying not to draw attention to myself in this artsy apartment complex.

When Gakupo opened the door, I noticed immediately that he was wearing a silk button down shirt that he only managed to the bottom buttons of. The scar and tattoos I noticed the other day were more obvious; the tattoos mirroring the ones on arms with black ink instead of white and featuring small round bumble bees in different styles. My attention was on the scar, though, that lined the middle of his chest. It was a surgical scar, old enough that whatever the surgery had occurred had long passed, but still recent enough to maintain the rosy color of healing.

In his hand he had some kind of a clear mixed drink that I could smell from here; it was sickly sweet. I’m sure the smell was amplified from the taste of the coffee in my mouth. 

“Kaito,” he smiled as he motioned me into the apartment. “You always amaze me with how punctual you are.”

“There’s no reason to create a meeting time if the time isn’t followed.'' I replied, stepping into a narrow hallway. The walls were lined with framed posters from what looked like different events. Some of them were concerts that featured Gakupo’s name, others were events and competitions that were covered in signatures. 

He led me into the living area of his apartment, which reminded me of the storeroom in his studio, though it was more cluttered. He had two sofas in two different patterns, and a pair or matching high-backed armchairs that were lined in purple velvet. There was a large round table in the center that was low enough to be surrounded by large plush pillows and cover in sheet music and books. The walls were painted in a deep green color that were covered in frame botanical prints or random vinyl record cases. Even the high vaulted ceiling matched the bohemian feeling of the room, painted a deep blue with white crown molding. I had no idea how he could afford all of this. It seemed a bit out of the range of a tattoo artist. 

As I took in the decor, Gakupo walked over to a bar cart that was placed behind one of the couches. He picked up a bottle of something I didn’t recognize and offered me a drink.

I held out my coffee to emphasize that I already had something, and in response, he asked, “How about cream liquor?”

I hadn’t drank anything alcoholic since I had graduated years ago, though that was because I’m more of a social drinker. This was a kind of social event, and while I’m sure that too much would make it a bit difficult to participate in rehearsal, a small amount wouldn’t be too bad. 

I accepted the offer, holding my coffee cup out to him. 

He took the cup and motioned for me to follow him, “I keep it in the fridge, this way.”

I followed him through the living area through an archway to a cramped kitchen that was even more clutter than the living room. The walls were painted in the same blue that the ceiling of the other room was, all the cabinets painted white, though they all seemed ancient, much like the appliances. Along the top of the cabinets there were long plants whose stems grew long enough to cover most of their bases, making it impossible to open the cabinet doors. The kitchen seemed clean, but the counters were littered with stacks of cookbooks and kitchen utilities, all as unusual as the rest of the apartment. The kitchen table was a small donned tablecloth that matched the cloth of the patterns on the two cushioned chairs. At the table, there was a laptop and a tablet, set up in a way that led me to believe they permanently stayed there as a make-shift workplace. 

As Gakupo opened the fridge and grabbed the liquor he spoke again, trying to find something to put both my coffee and the cream in, since I had only taken a few sips of coffee before he took it.

“Had you ever been to Milky before?” He asked as he grabbed a tall, colored coffee cocktail glass. He continued when I confirmed that I had. “I love it. There’s a woman there that manages it that I adore.”

“Meiko?” I asked, leaning up against the counter, watching him mix the drink. 

“Yes,” He added more Liquor, making the coffee a light, creamy beige. “She knows how to make a lovely americano.”

I knew better than to tell him that we knew each other intimately and that I had gone to dinner with her and her husband on multiple occasions. I just waited until he finished with the drink and handed it to me to respond with a flat “yeah”.

“Let me know if you want it to be any stronger than that, yeah?” He walked back over to the living area, and I noticed that someone was sitting on the floor near the table.

“Gumi,” Gakupo called out to her, “You need to let me know when you come in. I didn’t give you a key to come in unannounced.”

I recognized her from the studio the other day. She was the girl with the green hair that had gotten the tattoo before Len’s appointment. 

She narrowed her eyes when she looked in our direction. “Who’s that? Why do you look so familiar?”

“This is Kaito,” Gakupo silently invited me to sit down on one of the couches as he sat at the other. “Remember the conversation you rudely interrupted last Monday? He was in the studio when you left.”

“Oh yeah,” She smiled, her expression playful, “It’s the blue hair, you’re hard to miss. Why is he here?”

“He’s the stand-in I mentioned. He’s a musician, though I believe his talent may be a bit refined for your low-brow taste.” Gakupo reached out and grabbed the drink he had previously left on the table. He inspected it for a moment, and I noticed that there was a lipstick stain that matched the girl on the floor. “You could have served yourself one.” He sipped from the glass from the opposite side of the stain. 

“It tastes better when you make it.” She turned in my direction, pulling her knees up on her chest to rest her chin on them. “What do you play? Are you a drummer like Miku?”

“I suppose so,” I replied, taking a sip of my own drink. It was sickeningly sweet, but the fact that Gakupo made it for me made it tolerable. “But, I prefer string instruments.”

“You brought him in to replace you as the guitarist, didn’t you, Gak?” the way she accused Gakupo seemed so serious, but he didn’t bat an eye at her. 

“It’s rude not to properly introduce yourself, dear.” 

She looks back at me, reaching out her hand a bit awkwardly. “I’m Gumi. I play the keyboard and other obnoxious synths I can get my hands on.”

I took her hand gently and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Gumi.”

“Luka didn’t come with you?” Gakupo asked when we pulled our hands away from one another. 

“I was at the studio,” Gumi stood up and walked over to the bar cart. “There was some big name artist there that I didn't know that I was supposed to help. They just kind of stood around and smoked for a while, and I think we recorded about an hour worth of material in eight hours.”

“That’s your fault for becoming an audio technician.” Gakupo shrugged.

“Right, maybe I should have become a tattoo artist, seems easy enough.” 

“You can’t even take care of your own tattoos. It would be illegal for you to care for anyone else’s.” Gakupo laughed as he began braiding his hair over his shoulder. 

“Touche.” Gumi replied, returning to her seat on the floor. 

They continued to argue playfully for a bit longer before the door to the apartment opened, and a voice called out to Gakupo. 

“Can you come help the bags, please?” I recognized that voice from the studio the other day. That must have been Luka. 

He rushed to help them, and as he walked back, Luka and another girl followed behind him, all holding paper bags. 

The girl that I didn’t recognize made eye contact with me for a moment, surprised by something. Though I know that I had never met her before, I could swear that I had seen her before. From her light hair and sweet face, I felt like she was familiar in a distant way. 

We looked at one another for a few moments before she followed Gakupo and Luka to the kitchen. 

When the three returned, I noticed something that made my stomach drop, despite the fact that it shouldn’t have. 

Gakupo had his arm wrapped around Luka’s waist as they walked by me, and I realized all too quickly, despite my fantasies, that it was very possible that they were dating. This hypothesis was only further supported when they sat next to each other, and she leaned into him and he kissed her head as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 

I shouldn’t be jealous; I have a lovely boyfriend that has been nothing but pleasant since he spent the night earlier in the week. I asked him to go steady, and I wanted to spend time with him, but I also desperately wanted Gakupo. I wanted him in a way that would be inhibited if he was dating someone. Yet, there was the evidence, sitting in a short, tight skirt and an off the shoulder top that emphasized the tattoos that he obviously gave her. I was incredibly on edge, every muscle in my body tensing. 

I should just be happy for him. What reasonable man wouldn’t want to date someone as attractive as her? This reminded me how horribly unattractive I am, and that it was useless to continue to fantasize about the other man, as there would be no way that he would have been interested in me. 

I didn’t have enough time to wallow in self pity, as the familiar/unfamiliar girl sat down next to me, her excited energy overwhelming the black cloud growing above my head. 

“Thank you so much for filling in for me,” she had a beautiful smile on her face, “I didn’t know that I would be going on tour starting this week when we initially booked this show. I’m Miku, by the way.”

I repeated her name, which also sounded too familiar. “I’m sorry, but have we met before? I feel like we have.”

Gumi butted in, “Her face is all over Oykot; I doubt you would have missed her posters everywhere.”

“Posters?” 

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Miku giggled, “Actually, I used to go to Cafe Milky pretty often when I was in high school. You used to work there, right?”

That was it. She always had her hair in long pigtails and came in with a school uniform on. I must have seen her nearly everyday: she would come in with her homework and stay for hours. 

“No wonder you knew the manager!” Gakupo laughed.

I wanted to tell him that I more than _knew_ her, but I realized that I wanted to spite him for being in a relationship without telling me, as if that were somehow his responsibility. 

“I wondered where you went. I asked around, but no one seemed to know. I’m glad you’re doing well.” She was as sweet as the drink in my hand.

“I… Thank you. Same to you.” There was something about this girl that I couldn’t shake. She was being unusually nice to me.

“I want to see what he can do. Let’s set up!” Gumi stood up and began walking towards one of the doors in the apartment that had been closed earlier.

“You cannot just walk into my bedroom like that, Gumi.” Gakupo followed close behind her, using a scolding tone. “You don’t _live_ here anymore.”

Luka followed behind them, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.

I returned my attention to Miku, whose gaze never strayed away from me.

“Have you ever played for a rock band before?”

“No, I never have.” It hadn't fully occurred to me that this was going to be something out of the ordinary for me. If past me were to witness this, he would slap me for stooping so low was to play anything so tasteless.

“I kind of thought so.” She twirled a piece of her hair on her finger.

“You don’t really look like you would be the type to either.” I responded.

She beamed, “I’m not, but I’ve known Gakupo for so long that I simply had to join him.”

“How did you meet him?” Even if I was still recovering from the shock of finding out he wasn’t single, learning about Gakupo was exciting.

“His family is close to mine. He’s older than me, but we were both the only children in our families until my brother was born. I’ve always looked up to him as an older brother.” 

I liked this girl; she was honest, expressing herself fully without playing up some charade to impress me. The way she smiled and spoke were so genuine that I felt like we had been friends for years. The others in this apartment were unbelievably attractive, and while she was too, there was a beautiful light shining through her, unfamiliar to a creature as gloomy as myself. 

“So you joined this band because of him?”

“Of course!” She nodded, “I hardly get to spend time with him these days, and if I hadn’t joined, who knows when we would have seen each other again!”

I laughed at how expressive she was. 

“I’m a little disappointed that I can’t make it to the show tomorrow. This is a big night for everyone. This would be the first time we’ve ever played together like this in a sold out venue.”

“You said you’re going on tour, yes?” I tried to change the subject when it became obvious that this subject legitimately upset her. “What’s the tour for?”

Her mood shifted back to the expressive, excited one. “As lame as it sounds, I’m in a pop idol group. We’re starting our first overseas tour. My group mates and I are going to play in three major cities over the course of this week then come back to do a local tour.”

A pop star, of course. She was cute and bubbly. It was no wonder that she would become popular enough to travel to other countries.

“That’s pretty exciting.” In my head, I reminisced on the time that I was sent with a traveling orchestra, playing in beautiful venues across the world. 

“It is.” She looked down at her hands, “I just hope it all goes well; I’ll be disappointed if it’s no fun and I had to miss the show tomorrow for it.”

“I’m sure it will be great.” I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but my face always manages to make my smiles awkward.

If my face did contort in a strange way, she didn’t respond negatively towards it. She only laughed again as the other three came back from the other room and began setting up a few instruments. 

“I’m so excited to teach you the set!” Miku told me in a quiet tone, as if she didn’t want the others to hear her.

“I’m looking forward to it.” I responded, a bit relieved that this girl was here to help me move past the major disappointment I felt about Gakupo’s current relationship status. I’m not sure I would have gotten through the night without her.

Maybe it was the alcohol working through my system, but I felt warm in her presence. I would have kissed her in that moment if I were not in a relationship or terribly attracted to the man behind me. 

The remainder of the evening was rather uneventful. Not a single thing Miku showed me was difficult, and I was able to catch on to all ten songs in the set after playing along with everyone else a few times. At ten, everyone seemed pleased enough and stopped practicing, discussing topics related to the band that didn’t apply to me. I stayed, happy enough to remain in Miku’s company. 

At eleven, the conversation shifted to things completely unrelated to the concert, which I believe came from the amount of alcohol Gumi, Gakupo, And Luka had consumed. I didn’t even finish half of my drink before giving it to Miku because the sugar was giving me a headache. 

Admittedly, despite my conflicting emotions about him, I _really_ like drunk Gakupo. He became more animated and terribly affectionate. He couldn’t pass someone without touching them; he would run his fingers through Miku’s hair, take Gumi’s hands in his own, and grab my shoulders when he stood behind me. I loved the platonic affection, but I wanted more.

I wanted him to run his hands along my neck and my back in the same way he would to Luka, leaving light kisses all over her face and neck. I thought about the way he pulled me towards him last week, and how close I was to kissing him. I became so flustered I couldn’t even make eye contact properly with anyone in the room. 

At midnight, Luka and Gumi announced that they needed to start walking home, and Miku decided to join them, since her house was on the way. I wished Miku luck on her trip and said my goodbyes to the other girls in between Gakupo’s long hugs and comments to each of them. I began to call for a taxi as they walked out of the apartment, but Gakupo stopped me when the door shut and we were alone. 

“What side of town do you live on?” I noticed that the alcohol began to cling to his words, slurring them and melding them together. 

“West.” I began to redial the number I had just hung up on.

“No, no, that’s too far.” He grabs the phone out of my hand. “Just stay here for the night. We have the show tomorrow, anyway. We’re going to meet here, so it would save you two trips.”

I truly have to will myself to reject his offer. He was drunk and affectionate, and if I were a slightly more diabolical person, I would have taken advantage of him.

It couldn’t be that hard to take him down; force him on one of the couches and have my way with him. Would he try to stop me? A part of me believed he wouldn’t. He would go along with it, encouraging the adulterous behavior. 

With that thought, my rational brain kicked in. He’s drunk. No matter what he did, I shouldn’t take advantage of the opportunity. 

I try to grab my phone, but he keeps it just out of my reach. 

“Stay here, don’t be so stubborn.” With his other hand, he grabs my face softly. 

“I need to get home, Gakupo.” I tried to reach out again, but he held it away again. 

“You don’t need to say my name with such disdain, Kaito.” He played off that he was upset, but his own mouth betrayed him with its sly smile. “You can sleep in my bed with me. It’s comfortable. Ask anyone.”

I don’t think he realized what his words could imply, but I did, and if he were to make one more comment like that, I would be pushed over the edge. 

Quickly I reached out and grabbed my phone and pulled my face out of Gakupo’s hand before it turned red enough to reveal how I was actually feeling. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

He leaned against the wall on his arm, obviously a bit too unstable to keep himself up for an extended period of time. “You’re a rotten tease.” 

“Have a good night.”

He gave me another smile. “Goodnight. Please get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early at five in the afternoon.” He then added, “Or earlier, I’ll be here all day.”

I wasn’t sure if he was inviting me to come earlier, but I didn’t want to clarify. Instead, I slipped out of the door of his apartment before he could convince me to stay. 

I let out the breath I was holding as soon as I shut the door, walking away in an attempt to distance myself enough to change my mind. I looked back at the door, secretly hoping to see Gakupo beckoning me back. 

The door was shut. I continued down the hallway, dialing the taxi company again, hoping someone would be available right away to keep me from taking advantage of the offer I so painfully declined.


	4. Chapter 4

I think I’m drunk. The lights before me keep fading in and out, flashing in shades of reds, then blues, and then purple. He’s above me, though I don’t feel the pressure of his body. The smirk I’m so turned on by spread across his lips as his eyes wander about my face. 

I try to speak, but he stops me. 

“The things I want to do to you…” His voice so low and muffled I can barely hear it. “The list goes on and on. You know, I want to break you. I want to tear you apart.”

I stay silent. 

He continues. “I want to grind against your bones and sink my teeth so deep in your flesh the damage is irreparable.” He leans in closer. “Maybe I’ll claw your eyes and pull your teeth out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear?”

I barely utter an audible sound before everything goes dark again as a siren blares. 

…

I bolt up in bed.

It’s my alarm clock. It’s eight in the morning. I was asleep.

I curse as I hit the source of the obnoxious sound, my head throbbing as I move a bit too quickly. I’m barely conscious, but I know I need coffee. I don’t remember if I have any left. I usually stop by the shop by my apartment to pick coffee on Friday nights, but I didn’t get the chance to since I was at that stupid reherasal last night. 

It wasn’t stupid. It was necessary. It was stimulating. Stimulating enough to lead to such a vivid dream. 

I flop back down on my bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around _why_ that dream was so vivid. All of my weaknesses were embodied in a very obviously naked Gakupo. I had never even seen him without a shirt, how did I manage to fill in all the blanks that aroused my unconscious. How could I hear him saying these things to me so clearly that even in the moment my body wasn’t able to relax? Christ, at this rate I was embarrassed, somehow afraid that Gakupo knew that I had this dream. 

He kept invading my sleep, yes, but none of those dreams had been so obviously lewd as this. It was so realistic that I felt guilty that I encouraged such crude things to tumble out of his mouth. How terribly demeaning. 

It’s too early— I have to get to work by ten on the weekdays, so eight seems reasonable then, but last night, I was out too late. I stayed up late, my mind clouded by every conflicted emotion I felt last night and the ways my hands managed to find themselves in places I didn’t tell them to go. The earliest I went to sleep must have been four, but five or six seemed more accurate. 

I considered going back to sleep, but I did risk a headache if I didn’t drink something caffeinated before I tried again. I threw my covers off and trudged over to my kitchenette to check if I had some kind of coffee worth putting the kettle on for. I was in luck when I found some terrible instant coffee I had mistakenly bought a few weeks before.

The water would boil in ten minutes on the stove. I walked back to my bed to try to find my phone that wasn’t on my nightstand. It was tangled in my sheets, running on an eight percent battery. 

I had three messages; all three of them were from Gakupo. 

_Come over at three tomorrow._

_I know you don’t have anything to wear tomorrow._

_I can’t imagine you would have any clothes that don’t look like you teach piano lessons._

I could imagine drunk Gakpo say this with the sassy tone he had used right before I left last night. 

He was right: I didn’t have anything that I wouldn’t wear to work except for maybe a few graphic tee shirts (one of which Len had taken home with him the other night). I never really considered that I would need to wear anything other than what I usually wore, but I suppose that was not completely appropriate for the stand-in drummer for a rock band. Wearing something that Gakupo picked out though was… Concerning. 

I stared at the messages, contemplating how to reply as I stirred boiling water into the coffee, the terribly bitter smell reaching my nose instantly. Then,before finishing my coffee and going back to sleep, I answered him.

_I’ll see you at three._

...

He was wearing glasses with pink lenses when he opened the door, his hair pulled into a haphazard bun on top of his head, slowly unraveling as he spoke to me, using the door frame to support himself. 

“Good morning.” He smiled a lazy, half smile, a bit more toothy than his regular fox smirk. “It's wonderful to see you so bright and early.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, considering what I had said, then shrugged, “I only woke up with the sound of you pounding on the door.”

“I was out here for fifteen minutes. I called you three times.” I tried to step around him to slip into the apartment, and avoid having one of his neighbors catch me after standing around like an idiot for so long. 

As he closes the door, Gakupo wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him. “Long time, no see.” He rubbed his face into my hair, leaving me with a blush that was too embarrassing for me to acknowledge.

He’s wearing a silk, floral robe that’s slipping off his shoulder, showing off more of the octagons that fell down his arms and a pair of baggy pajama pants that match the green robe.

“You asked me to come at this time.” I sighed, trying to avoid standing so close to him, though he realized that and drew me in closer as we walked into the living area. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sat me down on the couch, looking me over with a rather cold, calculated expression. “As I suspected: you can’t wear that on stage. It’s too stuffy.”

I looked down at my jeans and white tee shirt, which I had hoped would be sufficient. 

“It won’t do. You’ll have to wear something of mine, it’s the only way.” He walked past me towards the kitchen. “Can I get you something? Tea, coffee, Champagne?”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“It’s never too early for mimosas.” He laughed loud enough for me to hear it from where I was sitting. 

Admittedly, I had expected him to return with a champagne flute, but instead, he came back with tea steaming in a mug. 

I hadn’t noticed when I came in, but as he sat beside me, I could see the exhaustion on his face. His eyes were red and puffy, his skin a bit paler than I remembered, as if his lack of sleep had sucked the life out of him.

He took a sip of his tea, then wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You and Miku hit it off last night.” 

“We did,” I smiled at my hands on my lap, both from being reminded of the sweet girl and the fact that he was still touching me. “I thought she was rather nice.”

“She liked you too,” He reached to put his mug on the table. “I gave her your number, I hope you don’t mind. She wanted to message you before the show.”

“That’s fine.” I would have given it to her if she had asked, but considering how overwhelming everything was last night, I’m sure she forgot to. 

He didn’t reply to that, instead, he turned his body in my direction, turning my head towards him. He studied my face for what felt like an eternity, the heat from my face crawling down to my neck to my chest, as if the temperature suddenly rose ten degrees. We were closer to one another than the time in the studio, and I could see every mark that made up Gakupo’s nearly perfect face. 

“You have wonderful skin.” He ran his thumb from my cheekbone down to my jaw, “I’m not sure how you manage that with all the coffee you drink.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I was suddenly pulled from my trance as he gave a mischievous expression to mask the serious one.

“You reek of coffee all the time,” He backed away a bit, pulling his arms away from me. “And I mean, _all the time_ . How much coffee _do_ you drink? Do you drink anything _other_ than coffee?”

From what I observed yesterday between him and Gumi, and even Miku to an extent, Gakupo was the kind to tease, but I had never expected he would tease _me_. It was an intimate act of affection that was reserved to people you trusted, yet here he was, the playful nature of his words making it obvious that he was teasing me. I was shocked, to say the least. 

“I do,” I retorted, unsure of what else to do other than to truthfully reply to him. “I like water.”

“We all like water. You need it to live, silly human.”

“I don’t drink that much coffee—”

“Every other time I have seen you you had a cup in your hand, and even now, you smell like it. You had to have downed a cup before you came here. How many cups do you drink a day?”

“Not that many—”

“How many? More than three?”

“Yeah—”

He leaned in closer to me, his face only a few fleeting inches away from mine. “That’s an unhealthy amount of coffee. You know what? I don’t think I could ever kiss such an excessive coffee drinker.”

Was he asking me to? Did he _want_ me to? Why would he lean in this close if he _didn’t_ want me to kiss him? Why would he make such a comment if he _wasn’t_ thinking about it? Did he want me to kiss him as much as _I_ wanted to kiss him right now? Or, was he being serious? Did I smell so terribly that it actually offended him? I’ve never even noticed how much I smelled like coffee before. I know that he had mentioned it the other night, when he commented on it and I mentioned that he smelled like flowers. He still smells like flowers—

As I began to self-destruct while overthinking the comments he made, he only stared at me, without changing his expression. I didn’t know what that expression was, but it seemed like he was waiting for something. Waiting for a clever reply? Waiting for me to push him away? Waiting for me to kiss him?

I collected myself to the best of my ability, trying to match his expression as I finally determined what I would do. In my most even tone, I whispered, “Good.”

The pleasantly shocked expression that he returned was exactly what I wanted. He shook his head while he chuckled, leaning back. 

“You’re sharp.” I could almost see the color rising in his cheeks, but it must have been my smug triumph clouding my vision. 

I was proud of myself for not kissing him; it took every ounce of my willpower and self control not to do so, but that response was almost as satisfying. If anything, I wasn’t making this game easy for him if he was toying with me like I believe he had been. He didn’t have to know that I spent hours mopeing around last night, desperately touching myself to try to keep the stupid fantasy scenarios that popped into my mind subdued. Or, worst of all, that I dreamed that he was the embodiment of all of my terrible fantasies. 

“You really should lay off the coffee a bit, though. You’ll give yourself a heart attack in a few years. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“That wouldn't be my preference,” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to hide the fact that he had flustered me as much as he did. “What’s with those glasses?”

He pulled them off to inspect them, as if this was the first time he had seen them. “I’m developing a rather nasty migraine. My pills have yet to kick in, and these are an almost useless precaution at this rate.”

“Are you going to be able to play tonight?” It was an honest question; I had gotten a total of three migraines in my life, all from stress, and they rendered me nearly incapable of doing anything. 

“Yeah, yeah, this isn’t my first migraine and it won’t be my last.” he waved his hand as he slipped his glasses back on, “Come, let’s go to my closet. I have to have something you’ll fit into.”

I followed him through one of the closed doors of the apartment into a room with heavy curtains that he opened as we walked in. The room was rather small compared to the rest of his apartment with a ceiling that was much lower. He had a large bed, a king size without a doubt, surrounded in a canopy of light fabric curtains. Cramped between the space between the bed and the walls was a pair of bookcases that appeared to double as nightstands, considering the amount of mugs and wine glasses that littered the shelves. Had it been anyone else, I would have been utterly revolted by the mess, but it was oddly charming when I considered that Gakupo was the one to have left them there. The book cases were packed with books of different colors and sizes, though they all seemed to be ancient. 

“Take a seat.” My host waved at the velvet settee resting at the end of his bed. I followed the instruction, watching him walk into a closet that was disorganized and absolutely packed with clothing of various colors and textures that gave me an ungodly amount of anxiety, as I could only imagine what kind of awful thing he would put me in. 

When he was focused on something, Gakupo’s face always rested in a serious expression, his aristocratic features sharp and still. His eyes, though, lit up in a way that was alarmingly inquisitive. He made the same expression when he played guitar, as I noticed from rehearsal last night, or when he mixed drinks. I’m sure he held the same playful gleam when he tattooed others. Len was able to watch the expression when he had gotten his tongue pierced. 

The thought reminded me that I needed to message my boyfriend the address of the venue we were playing in before I forgot again. I managed to memorize it, lest I have to ask for the fifth time in a twenty-four hour period. 

It was strange how much Len was looking forward to this concert. He even took the afternoon off from work. I don’t think he’s ever taken time off from his host job. I would have considered it an honor if I didn't know that this was an excuse for him to show off. 

I put my phone back in the pocket of my cardigan before I returned my attention to Gakupo, who was looking over a deep red shirt. I held it out before himself before he beckoned me over. 

As I stalked over, he held the shirt out to me. “Try this on.”

I took the shirt from his hands, inspecting it for a moment. The idea of changing in front of him suddenly hit me with a second wave of anxiety. He was still looking about his closet, his back now to me. I slipped my cardigan and tee shirt off, trying to get the red shirt on before he turned around but I noticed that he was looking in my direction when I managed to get my head through, and he watched as it slid down my torso. 

The shirt was made of a light linen material, dyed a deep, natural red. I could only describe it as a peasant top that tied at the front, though it was tighter than a shirt of that style around my waist, as if it had been tailor to extenuate it. I felt absolutely ridiculous in it’s balloon sleeves. This was undeniably something Gakupo would wear, and I’m sure he looked dashing in it, but I felt like a pathetic actor in a renaissance faire. 

Based on his expression, though, he disagreed. 

“That color matches your hair nicely. I like it.” He then reached for a pair of black pants and held them out to me. “These should fit you.”

I waited until he turned around to unbutton my jeans and slip them off, but like clockwork, Gakupo managed to turn back around as I was sliding the black pants up, watching me with his hand over his mouth, his gaze critical. 

“That’s perfect. We just have to change those shoes. What size do you wear?”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” 

“Those awful canvas shoes will ruin everything else.” He then repeated his question. 

“An eleven.” I replied, dropping down on the settee as he searched about the floor of the closet. 

He stepped out with a pair of deep red oxfords that matched the shirt. He kneeled down before me, and in spite of the terrified expression I must have had on my face, gently grabbed my foot. 

Everything about this was oddly intimate and all of it horrified me in a way that I couldn’t explain. Why was he touching my foot? Why was he kneeling before me like that? I had to bite my tongue to keep my cool, as he slipped the shoe on and inspected it, lest he find out how nervous I was. I was overreacting due to the strange moment we had before. Now everything seemed suspicious, as if he was taking any chance he got to see me, to touch me. My mind was getting too carried away. 

When he slipped the other shoe on, he stood, dragging me up by my wrist to have me stand so he could inspect what he had dressed me in. 

“That’s it.” He smiled, making eye contact with me again. “I thought that would be more difficult. I suppose you came early for nothing. Let’s go talk for a bit before the girls arrive, yeah? I can’t wait to show them how well you clean up.” He reached out, running his fingers through my bangs to push them off my forehead, seeming rather pleased with himself. 

I couldn’t help but be tempted yet again to kiss the smug bastard, but this time, he wasn’t asking for it. 

…

Gumi and Luka showed up at Gakupo’s apartment ten minutes past five with coffee from Cafe Milky, and I was relieved, since I had only drank water for the past few hours to prove that I wasn’t an addict. The bitterness of a cup of black coffee washed the effect of Gakupo’s teasing away.

I had learned a lot about Gakupo in the time we spent together. He’s 28, making him two years older than me (which I was relieved about, considering the comments Len had made when we first met). He became a tattoo artist when he turned twenty, and managed to get himself a cheap place to work four years of freelance work with other artists around the city. He told me story after story about his work as a tattoo artist, all of which were fascinating and a little unbelievable. I was surprised that he was able to speak so easily for long periods of time, though I was thankful for it, because it kept him from prying into my past.

At the moment, Gakupo was in his bedroom, the door drawn as he showered and dressed for the show. 

“How are you feeling, Kaito?” Luka asked me as she sat down next to me on the couch.

“I’m alright.” I sipped my coffee, hoping it would keep me from having to give a more definitive answer. 

“Gakupo dressed you in that, didn’t he?” Gumi, who had taken her spot on the floor, gave me a rather dull expression.

“I can’t say I would ever purchase something like this willingly for myself.” I felt even more ridiculous than I did before, but considering the condition of Gakupo’s closet, I’m sure he would just manage to find something even worse for me to wear if I complained about it. 

“It looks nice,” Luka smiled. “Admittedly, it doesn’t particularly reflect your personality, but you don’t look bad.”

I tried to return her smile. She was more subdued in comparison to everyone else that Gakupo associated with. It was a striking comparison against her eccentric and over the top boyfriend. 

“He looks like a vampire.” Gumi rolled her eyes. “Slick his hair back; he’d probably look like Bela Lugosi.” She seemed like she would be more Gakupo’s type; she was snarky and condescending.

“Lugosi was quite handsome. I’m surprised that you’re so willing to openly compliment him.” Luka seemed content enough to call the other girl out. 

Gumi only stuck her tongue out at that, then returned her attentioned to adding yet another sugar packet to her nearly white iced coffee, if it would be fair to even call it that. 

“Have you ever played in a packed bar before?” 

I wasn’t sure how to reply to Luka’s question; I’d never played in a bar like this before, let alone a place with _this_ kind of an audience. I’ve only ever played in concert halls and private events, with the exception of playing piano for Meiko. I supposed those private clubs would be similar. Businessmen and politicians manage to drink nearly as much at such an exclusive place as they would in a dive bar, yes, but it was difficult to compare the two to one another. 

I shook my head, trying my best not to release any personal information. 

“I don’t think he’s ever been to a bar.” Gumi shrugged. “You don’t seem the type.”

“I’m not.” I assured her. I hadn’t been inside of a public bar since college, and I would only go then to accompany Meiko and become inebriated to the point that I didn’t have to consider what a failure I was. 

“I’m sure a snob like you would have never considered it if it weren’t for Gakupo.”

“Hey,” Luka’s tone was the kind a mother would scold a child with, “That was rude.”

“I’m sure you were thinking that, too. You have to be like, what, a child prodigy or something? You picked up Miku’s set yesterday like it was nothing.”

It _was_ nothing, none of their performances were anything out of the ordinary, but I felt it was rude to mention it. I just drank my coffee instead of replying to her. 

“She’s harmless,” Luka glared at Gumi as she said this, “A bit of a jerk, but harmless. Don’t take what she says to heart.”

I felt a little bit snarky now. “If I’m not mistaken, you sound a bit jealous, is that it, Gumi?”

Both Luka and Gumi stared at me in disbelief. There goes my neutral image. 

A door opened and shut behind me, and Gakupo stepped behind Luka, wrapping his arms around her neck and kissing her cheek a few times. “You look ravishing, darling, as always.”

She brought her arm up to place her hand on the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue to kiss her, to which he obliged. 

Gumi and I made eye contact at the awkward scene, and we couldn’t help but smile at the mutual uncertainty we both felt in this moment. At least we were on the same page there. 

After a few more affectionate minutes, Gakupo then turned his attention to Gumi, then asked, “What do you think of Kaito? He cleans up nicely, doesn’t he?” 

“I think you forget that I find your sense of fashion is horrendous and offensive.” 

“She said he looks like a vampire.” Luka added. 

“Lestat or Louis?” Gakupo laughed as he pulled himself away from Luka to sit on the other sofa. 

I couldn’t help but stare at him, noticing that he had pulled half of his hair back into a bun, leaving the rest to fall on his shoulders. I didn’t have his hair down often, and it struck me how long his hair was. It emphasized his narrow face and neck, down to the part of his chest that was shown due to the low v-cut of the purple shirt he wore. At this rate, the only person that could ever qualify as an immortal being was him. His appearance was ethereal and otherworldly. 

“Now that the princess here is finished getting ready, we should call for a cab.” Gumi commented, standing up. 

The others agreed, and suddenly I was hit with the reality that we would be performing in front of an audience soon, and my hands started shaking. I hope the others hadn’t noticed. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must mention— All of this story is pretty self-indulgent. I’m starting to prep for finals, so all I want to write are encounters between Gakupo and Kaito. I’m terrible at slow-burn stories, I know. I can’t help it. 
> 
> I also apologize for the length of this chapter, as it’s pretty short compared to the others. I wanted to set up a few things for the future, and that didn’t leave me much space for anything else. Technically I wanted to write about the performance in this chapter, but I think it really needs it’s own chapter (if I can properly pull it off). Sorry if this chapter seemed a bit out of place because of that.


	5. Chapter 5

All I have to do is focus on my breathing, in the hopes that I appear to be unphased by the crowd of rowdy people in a bar that I had never been to. 

Despite its dive appearance, the crowd is full of young people, all a bit too well-dressed to frequent this place. I try to avoid making eye contact with any of them and focus on keeping the equipment cases I’m carrying from slipping out of my sweaty hands. My eyes are locked on Luka’s boots, allowing her to lead me through a door to a stuffy room at the back of the bar. 

“It’s packed,” Gumi announced, throwing the cases she was carrying on a worn out sofa, “They weren’t kidding when they said the tickets sold out.”

“I have to talk to the owner,” Gakupo left his guitar case leaning against the same sofa and moved to leave again, but stopped next a foot shy of the door. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder, “Are you okay?” His face fell into the serious expression I had seen so few times.

I smiled weakly at him, nodding, hoping he wouldn’t make me speak. He stared at me for only a moment longer before he returned my nod, then hurried out of the room. 

I was twenty the last time I played for a crowd that was remotely this size. It was my last show; I can’t remember if we were in Emor or Sirap at the time. I was the concertmaster of the chamber orchestra, and it should have been the pivotal moment of my career. I was on my way to becoming a conductor with my name in the mouths of musicians across the world. It would all fall apart after that: the second I landed back in Oykot, I found myself desperately scraping up the pieces that remained of my life, and I haven’t played before this many people since. 

What would my mentor think if he could see me now? Resigning myself to play such tasteless music, not because I wanted to play it, but because I wanted to please the men I was interested in. I’m sure he would consider it pathetic, but I’m sure he thought that of me, regardless of what I was doing. 

I should have turned this down. Why did I think I was capable of more than music lessons at this point in my life? I decided when I took the job at the music shop that I would keep my head down and allow myself to fade into obscurity as the owner, hoping that I would be able to drown myself in enough sheet music and broken strings long enough to die nameless at an early age because I was too addicted to caffeine to avoid a heart attack.

I hadn’t considered the full extent of my actions until now. This was the exact opposite of fading into oblivion. While I was sure that the people waiting outside wouldn’t care who I was, there was always a small chance that someone would recognize me. Maybe a student or a former coworker from the cafe, or possibly even more frightening, someone from before who would recognize me, despite having aged terribly in the past six years. 

My chest feels heavy, as if my lungs were trying to collapse on themselves. I could count to ten to try to keep my cool, but what good would that do right now? I can’t concentrate. Not with Gumi grabbing things from my hands and telling me things that I should know about the set. I need to listen, but I can’t focus on the words; it sounds like gibberish, as if she were speaking backwards or if the words themselves were anagrams of something that should have a meaning in this context. 

There’s a humming sound that begins to drown out the sound of Gumi’s and Luka’s voices. I can only watch them speak to one another as I lean against the wall, trying to get the noise in my ears to stop without making it obvious. 

On the night after my last concert, he said something to me that echoes over the tinnitus. 

_You’re the talent of this generation, Kaito. Remember your place._

My _place_ wasn’t here. It wasn’t in a dive bar too far away from my apartment. My place wasn’t dating a boy just shy of being seven years younger than me, who shouldn’t have given me any attention in the first place. And, at the utmost, my place certainly wasn’t with Gakupo, who I became more and more obsessed with as the days passed. Admittedly, I haven’t been sure of what my place was since he had told me that, but I knew that I shouldn’t be here now. It wasn’t too late for me to leave, was it?

Gakupo rushed through the door seconds before I made a run for it, and when he slammed the door behind him, I was snapped back into reality. 

“Was anyone going to tell me that Kiyoteru is here? Or was that supposed to be a secret?” I was surprised to hear such contempt in his voice. 

Gumi cursed and stopped messing with a piece of equipment in Luka’s hands. “I told him to come after we had started—”

“You _invited_ him?” There was such a venom in his tone that even I felt guilty, despite having no clue what was happening.

“You need to get over it, Gak.” Gumi retorted, turning her back to him to return her full attention to the equipment that she rolled around in her hands. “I already told you I was seeing him. Just because you don’t like him—”

“I despise him. I loathe him. But, this isn’t about _that_ ,” Gakupo took the equipment out of her hands to force her to pay attention to him. “I have specifically told you that I don’t want him coming to our shows. _Why did you invite him_?”

Gumi took the equipment back. “Get over it. I don’t have time to explain anything to you right now. We have a show in twenty minutes.”

I wasn’t sure what Gakupo was going to do in response. With the way he ground his teeth together, I expected that he was going to scream at her, as his voice, despite sounding angry, had yet to break his typical tone. Instead, though, he turned about and walked out the door again, slamming it behind him as both Gumi and Luka called out to him. 

“Can you _please_ do something about your dramatic boyfriend?” Gumi used the same tone with Luka that she had with Gakupo. “We need him on stage soon for a sound check and I’m not starting late because of his whining.”

“Why did you invite Kiyo? I thought I told you not to.” Luka sounded exhausted already. 

“If your lousy boyfriend gets to be here, so does mine.” Gumi snapped, “Go get him.”

Luka then turned her attention to me, trying to give a soft smile through her discomfort. “I’m sorry to ask you this, Kaito, since this has nothing to do with you, but can you please follow him and coax him back in? I think he’ll listen to you.” 

I nodded, but I shuddered at the idea of having to walk through that crowd again to find him. Even with that discomfort, I couldn't help but be morbidly curious, and perhaps “coaxing” Gakupo would warrant a little bit of an explanation. 

I slipped through the door, staying as close to the wall as possible, wandering around the bar a bit, when I realized that Gakupo was standing at an open side entrance, lighting a cigarette that was hanging out of his mouth. 

I called out to him as I approached, walking out of the muggy heat of the bar into the cool autumn air. 

He clicked his tongue as he exhaled, making a surprisingly sheepish expression. 

“I gave you a hard time about the coffee earlier, yet here I am.” He waved the cigarette around, “It’s a terrible habit I couldn’t help but pick up. Don’t tell Miku; she’ll kill me.”

I nodded, unsure of what I was supposed to say. From the corner of my eye, I noticed that Gumi and Luka were setting up on the small stage in the corner of the bar, and I could swear that Gumi was glaring at me as she traveled back and forth from the back room.

“You sure you’re alright, Kaito? You’re awfully pale.” He reached out, brushing my hair out of my face. 

“I think I should be asking you the same thing.” I wanted to press my face into his hand to satisfy my need for human contact at the moment, but kept myself from indulging in the platonic touch. 

He laughed as he pulled his hand away, crushing the filter of the cigarette between his teeth. “I lost my temper a bit, didn’t I?”

I only stared at him, trying to persuade him to continue without asking. 

“I’m fine, just a little irritable because of the migraine. Gumi never listens to me, anyway, I shouldn’t expect her to now. Especially when it comes to…” there was a subtle drop in his expression, “Kiyo.”

Despite the fact that I was barely keeping my cool, I wanted to press him about this to figure out who this person was that could lead the seemingly collected person before me to feel so distraught, but I wouldn’t know what to ask.

“You’re nervous,” he changed the subject, taking a long drag of his cigarette before stomping it out beneath the heel of his boot. “How often do you play in front of people?”

“Not often,” I toyed a bit with the sleeve of the shirt he let me borrow, “It’s been a pretty long time.”

“You’re gonna do great.” He wrapped his arm around by my shoulders and led me back into the bar, forcing me through the crowd in a way that seemed to comfort the extroverted Gakupo and terrified someone as introverted as myself.

As we walked back towards the back room, we passed a man that made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact with me, staring with a gaze so intense that I couldn’t look away. He was rather plain in this venue; disheveled brown hair and narrow brown eyes, his face ending in a sharp chin. I’m not sure why he managed to catch my attention at all, but there was something about the energy surrounding that rather empty expression on his face that kept me from looking away. I could have sworn, just before Gakupo took his arm off my shoulders to close the door behind us, he mouthed something to me, but I couldn’t decipher it in time.

Gumi’s voice brought me back into reality. “Gakupo, you need to get onstage for sound check, we’re running behind. The mic was acting wonky earlier, so try to figure that out. You too, Kaito. Please check that everything is out there.” 

“Got it.” Gakupo immediately turned around to head back to the stage, and I was his shadow, following close behind. 

I tried not to pay attention to the people in the bar. There had to be at least three hundred people in a dive that should not have held more than a hundred. They were so crowded together, their bodies close enough to leave only a few inches of space between each. The air was stale, despite the movement of people to indistinguishable songs played on previously blown out speakers, repaired just enough to emit a muffled sound of music that fell into genres I didn’t fully understand. 

Somewhere in the crowd, Len sat with his coworker, Fuakse, who managed to also get the night off to accompany him. I was tempted to seek him out, but I wouldn’t know what to do if I saw him. Wave like an idiot? Give him a terribly pained smile, full of anxiety and self doubt that would only break the idealized version of me the Len had somehow concocted? No, I couldn’t. He would just have to wait until all of this blew over and I never had to play in front of a crowd ever again. 

I tried to focus on the drum set, ensuring that everything was set up appropriately. It was only a five piece set; not a particularly complex instrument, but I wasn’t sure what else to do with my hands at this rate, and running my fingers along every inch of every drum and cymbal made it a bit easier to look like I was accomplishing something under stage lights that made me feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

Gakupo stood before the mic, effortlessly murmuring things into the microphone in a foreign language. It hadn’t fully occurred to me that he would be the one to sing tonight for this band, since he didn’t sing a word at the rehearsal last night. I knew he was supposed to be the lead singer, based on the comments made by others in passing, sprinkled throughout conversations, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it, unable to fully register the fact that he was going to sing. 

I was suddenly struck with the possibility that by some chance-- some terrible though very possible chance-- that he was a bad singer. He couldn’t possibly be so ridiculously talented, could he? 

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he slung his guitar to his side and sipped at a bottle of water that Gumi had handed to him. He spoke quietly to Luka as she tuned her bass, laughing in a low enough tone that it was nearly inaudible. 

He was too goddamn attractive for this place. He deserved to be placed in a _fucking_ museum, not some crappy bar with a crowd of lousy people that would lust over the way in looked in those tight pants...

I’m staring at Gakupo when he winks at me, mouthing “ready?” slowly enough for me to catch it. 

I can barely nod in response, crippled by both my overwhelming attraction to him and my distaste for the crowd that waited impatiently for his attention. 

He turned away from me, becoming a black silhouette against the stage lights as he addresses his audience in a voice so smooth it catches me off guard. 

I’m transported back to my final show, and the words that came out of the mouth of someone I respected more than anyone in the world echoed in my ears again. 

_You’re the talent of this generation, Kaito. Remember your place._

There was no way that I could do this. My rib cage felt like it was going to collapse, crushing my lungs as I struggled to breathe. My heartbeat rang so loudly in my ears that it was hard to hear anything else that Gakupo said. 

It wasn’t too late for me to leave, technically. I could walk off this stage now. It would be unprofessional, and I ran the risk of never speaking to the man in front of me again, but it was still possible for me to leave. I wasn’t shackled. I wasn’t socially obligated. This was just some stupid whim, after all. Nothing really mattered to me-- 

I don’t know what Gakupo had said in the time that I panicked, but I was barely able to snap back to the stage before he turned to give me my cue. I begin playing almost robotically, recalling the patterns of the first song instantly. I didn't realize what was happening until I heard Gakupo begin to sing. 

His singing voice is low, as is his normal voice, but there’s something deeper in the tone. Something darker and romantic, disguising the off-putting lyrics he sang. I wanted nothing more than to see his face, to watch the way his lips shaped those words in the low purr that the audience seemed entranced by. The crowd was eerily quiet for a rock concert, but if I were to be in front of him now, I wouldn’t have much of an opportunity to do anything other than stare, either. 

As time passed, the songs blurred together, each falling into one another as I managed to play just well enough to seem adequate to the audience that must have been too distracted by the lead singer to notice in the first place. I know that I was. 

I didn’t have the time to pick at Luka or Gumi’s performances, as I was unable to even recall what instruments they were playing. For all I knew, they played invisible instruments that were drowned in comparison to the lyrics that Gakupo sang. The audience persisted, nonetheless. They didn’t care about the instrumentalists anyway; I knew all of this screaming was all for him. 

It occurred to me then that the entire crowd was there for Gakupo and he damn well deserved it with that wretchedly beautiful voice. 

Time passed quickly, and before I knew it, he spoke to the audience once again, thanking them for the show. I was relieved to find that this had ended without any major incidents, with the exception of maybe a few hiccups that I wouldn’t have allowed to happen if I was the same musician I was years ago.

Music began to blare out of the terrible speakers again, causing the crowd to die down. Gakupo turned to us with a large smile, and after finishing up his bottle of water, said, “Let’s get packed up; the faster we can lock everything up, the faster we can drink.”

Luka and Gumi worked quickly around me, taking pieces of equipment bit by bit to the back. 

I began to take the drum set apart, trying to figure out how to efficiently, since I hadn’t been the one to set it up. 

Gakupo walks over and leans towards me, his face rather close to mine. 

“Not so bad was it?” 

I’m too lost in the flush of his skin to consider a fully coherent response. I instead, embarrassingly, said the first thing that came to mind. “You were beautiful tonight.” 

He was taken back by my blunt comment, his sly expression dropping to an obviously surprised one. I know my face twisted to match the horror that I felt when I saw that. 

“Your _voice_ ,” I stuttered, trying to recover. “You have a wonderful voice.” 

He took a moment to respond, but he murmured a phrase of gratitude before rushing to the back room. I wanted to smack my head on a cymbal. _Beautiful_ , really? Could I stop being creepy for two minutes or at least long enough not to freak someone out?

I continued to take apart the drum set, trying my best to avoid making eye contact with Gakupo as much as possible until we managed to get all of the equipment put away in the back room. With everything locked up, I followed closely behind Luka as she walked over to the bar. She was nice enough to make small talk with me as we managed to walk through the crowd, which had calmed down a bit. It was still rather packed, but at least we could manage to step around people with a little less effort. I was even more relieved when Gakupo was stopped by a crowd of people, and I managed to grab a seat alone with Luka for the time being. 

“You really had no trouble picking up the songs, did you?” She ordered a mixed drink from the bartender then returned her attention to me, waiting for my answer. 

“Miku taught me everything I need to know.” I ordered a shot of cinnamon whisky, which was the only thing I could come up with off the top of my head. 

“You’re good,” She smiled and took a sip of the drink the bartender handed her. “Where did you play before? There’s no way you’ve only ever taught lessons.”

A part of me wanted to be honest with her, but I knew better than to risk mentioning something incriminating, “Grade school orchestras.” 

“I’m surprised; you could go far with talent like that.” 

I laughed nervously, taking the shot off the bar so quickly it felt like an unconscious reflex. 

Behind me, someone called my name. I sighed, a little unprepared to deal with the owner of the voice, but turned towards him anyway. 

Len made his way through the crowd of people, a devious smile on his lips. He had to have been wearing something that he stole from work. Everything was so tight that every outline of his body was emphasized in a way that almost pained me to see. He’s such an attractive human being, so much so that I wanted nothing more than to drag him to some corner of the room and--

“Hey, I know you two!” Luka called out to Len and his coworker as they approached. 

I had only met Fukase a handful of times, but I couldn't find myself particularly attracted to him. Maybe it was his snooty disposition that was a bit too cold at times, or his fiery red hair that kept me at a distance. Somehow, he and Len were inseparable, even if I couldn’t see the other young man’s appeal.

Luka stood up and hugged Fukase, then Len. 

“How is your piercing?” Luka asked, to which Len responded in the way he typically responded when anybody asked (by sticking out his tongue in an unnecessarily suggestive way). 

“I forgot that boyfriend of yours knows how to sing, hun.” Fukase took a sip from Luka’s drink. “I need to come out for more of your shows.”

I turned to Len, leaning in to ask him he wanted a drink. 

“Oh, yes, please.” he slipped in between Luka and I, standing between the bar and my leg. He ordered some short with a ridiculous name, which I ordered a second of, trying to drown the thought of embarrassing myself earlier. 

Len leaned towards me, and in my ear, said, “This is my first time dating a real musician, you know.”

“I hope that wasn’t too disappointing, then.” I had to keep myself from wrapping my arm around his waist to pull him up on my lap. If I wasn’t careful, I might just do it in a drunken stupor. I’ve done worse in the past.

“No,” he smelled like he had already been drinking. “You’re hot. So hot.”

If it wasn’t so crowded and loud in here, I would have reprimanded him, but it was futile, and I couldn’t help but crave the attention. 

“Thank you for coming.” I whisper to him, tempted to nip at his ears. 

He turned to me, close enough that I could nearly feel his lips on mine. I’m sure he would have kissed me if the bartender hadn’t slipped the shots to us. I cleared my throat, clicked the shot glass against Len’s, then took it quickly enough to get past the sickly sweet syrup that covered up whatever cheap alcohol the drink was made of. It didn’t matter what it was at this rate: I was going to drink until I was a little more irresponsible and ran the risk of blacking out, hoping that I could manage to forget that I called Gakupo _beautiful,_ for fuck’s sake. 

“I’m going home with you tonight, right?” Len murmured to me.

I let the shot talk for me, “I don’t think you have a choice. I wouldn’t let you go home even if you begged me.”

He smiled, pleasantly surprised to hear me say something so borderline vulgar. 

“But,” I continued, “You’ll have to be good and wait. I need a few more drinks, yeah?”

He nodded, called for two more of the shots he ordered moments ago. 

“Len, hey,” Gakupo’s voice rang in my ears as I took the third shot, almost choking on it. He came up behind me and leaned into squeeze Len’s shoulder as he inspected the glasses in our hands. “What is that?”

Len told him the name of the shot, and Gakupo ordered three more. 

“What’d you think of the show?” Gakupo was leaning against me, his arm draped over my shoulder, his fingers grazing my collar bone in a way that I swear was intentional. 

“You’re all pretty talented,” Len replied, “But, I’ve been curious since you mentioned it; your drummer is usually Hatsune Miku? Like, _the_ Hatsune Miku?”

“Yeah, she's been playing with us since we started the band, but she’s been too busy with her day job.” Gakupo laughed. “Speaking of which,” He called over to Luka, “Can you call Miku? I promised her that someone would before we split up for the night.”

Luka nodded and took out her phone. 

“She must be insanely busy these days. I tried to get tickets for her show here in a few weeks, but it sold out almost instantly.” I wasn’t aware that Len kept up with idols, but then again, I wasn’t aware of too many of his interests in the first place. 

“That girl has been busy since we were kids. I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t performing. The girl was practically born with a microphone in her hand.” Gakupo grabbed one of the shots the bartender had just put down. “Thank you for lending us Kaito for the night, by the way. I’m sure the two of you would have gotten up to something a bit more interesting this evening otherwise.”

Len gave me a wry expression that I tried to ignore by taking the shot faster than the other two. Gakupo followed suit. He smacked his lips, commenting on the sweetness of the drink before he ordered some other kind of shot. I ordered one of those as well. 

“How many have you had?” Gakupo leaned towards me, leaving me sandwiched between him and Len. 

“Not nearly enough.” I responded, a bit too honestly. I really had no filter with him this evening, did I?

“Does he usually drink this much?” Gakupo asked Len.

“I dunno.” My boyfriend shrugged, leaning against me a bit more. “I’ve never drank with him before.” 

“Huh,” as if he could tell that Len had moved closer to me, Gakupo leaned a bit more into me as well, “I guess we’re both in for a treat.”

It was way too damn hot for this. Maybe it was the alcohol, but they were both way too close to me, and while I wanted it ( _desperately_ , I _desperately_ wanted them all over me), I needed a minute to regain my composure before I managed to do another stupid thing. 

I took the shot that I had ordered and excused myself, making my way through the crowd to the same side door I had used earlier to find Gakupo. 

The night air was much chillier now, cooling off my mind as soon as the breeze made it through the light fabric of my shirt. I walked down the alley a bit, searching my pockets for my phone to check the time. When I couldn't find it, I had turned to see if I had left it at the bar and standing by the door was the man I had made eye contact with earlier. 

“Did you need a lighter?” He asked, his voice monotone. “Or a cigarette, for that matter?”

Awkwardly, I shook my head, “Oh, no, I was looking for my phone. Sorry.” I was planning to walk past him and back into the bar, but he spoke again before I walked back inside. 

“What was your name?” He tilted his head to the side as he lit a cigarette for himself.

“Kaito.” I replied, a bit unsure of what to do in this situation. 

“Kaito what?” His even tone was a bit unsettling in this environment. 

It took me a moment to respond in my state of early inebriation, “Uh, Saiki.”

“Saiki Kaito?” he gave me an expression of disbelief that left me unsettled, as if he was reading my mind. 

“Yes.” I replied in a small voice, trying to recall if I knew this man in any way. He was so plain that I probably could have met him at least a hundred times in the past that I never would have remembered him.

He didn’t say anything else before Gumi walked into the alley, obviously not expecting to see me. 

“Kaito,” She looked from me to the other man, “I guess you met him like you wanted to, huh, Kiyo?”

This was the man that Gakupo had complained about earlier. No wonder he was glaring in my direction earlier. 

“I suppose we have met.” Kiyoteru shrugged. “Are we leaving?”

“Yup, grabbed everything I needed to.” She looked back at me, “They’re chatting with Miku inside. She was asking about you, but she’s on limited time. I’d suggest you try to catch up with her before she has to hang up.”

“Right.” I took that as my cue to leave. I said my parting words, trying to hurry away from the two. Kiyoteru hadn’t done anything particularly out of the ordinary, but I couldn’t help but feel unsettled considering how negatively Gakupo had reacted to his presence earlier, and even more so with the way he reacted to my name. 

I slipped back into the bar and made my way back to where I had been sitting. Len was now sitting in my seat, watching as I made my way over to him. Gakupo and Luka were crowded around Luka’s phone screen, talking about the show. 

“He’s back.” Luka said suddenly, handing the phone to me. “It’s Miku.”

I took the phone in my hand, trying to adjust to the brightness of the screen. I was greeted with a warm smile and a giggle at the expression I must have been making. She had her hair up in a long ponytail and was wearing a white, fluffy sweatshirt in front of a large window. 

“Hey, Miku,” I smiled at her, “How was your trip?”

“Kaito! I’m really glad to see you. The flight was fine; we landed not too long ago. I’m in the hotel now. I’m going to rest for a few hours before I have to get to practice. How was the show? I heard you did great!”

“If they say so.” I rubbed the back of my neck, a bit unsure of what else to say. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Len trying to look at the screen. 

“Thank you so much for taking my place tonight! I had sent you a message earlier, but I’m not sure if you had gotten it. When I get back, I’m going to take everyone out for lunch; if you’re free, I’d love to see you there.” She was such an unbelievably cute girl. 

“I’ll let you know for sure, but I’d love to. Just let me know.” 

She began to talk again, but was interrupted by another person on her end of the line. “I have to go, but I’ll call you later, okay? Let Luka know that I’m sorry for hanging up so quickly.”

I assured her, and she hung up immediately and I handed the phone back to Luka. 

Len pulled me down by my shirt until his mouth was by my ear. “Let’s get out of here, please? You’re drivin’ me crazy.”

How was I to argue with such a plea? I asked the bartender for the bill before letting Gakupo and Luka know that I was planning to leave. 

“Your stuff is still in the backroom, right?” Gakupo asked. I nodded when I realized I must have left my phone there earlier. “C’mon, I’ll unlock it for you.”

I left my credit card with Len, then staggered to follow Gakupo, realizing too quickly that the alcohol was finally kicking in. 

When we got into the backroom, I stumbled around a bit trying to find my stuff in the low light. Gakupo leaned against the door frame, speaking as I fumbled around. 

“So, about that tattoo…”

I had forgotten what the conditions of this performance were _not_ just to spend time with him in exchange for my musical prowess. I stood up straight, giving him my full attention. 

“I have an idea for it. I’ll draw up a design and make another appointment with you to discuss it. Are you free anytime this week?”

It was odd how easy it was becoming to spend time with him. It was almost like he wanted to spend as much time as I wanted to spend with him, but this meeting was just part of the deal we had made previously. It was unfair of me to think too much of it. 

“Yeah, Wednesday night? I think.” I couldn’t think clearly enough to remember if I had made any plans prior on that date, but a weeknight that wasn’t a Thursday night seemed reasonable. 

“Then meet me at the studio at eleven on Wednesday night? Bring coffee.” He smiled at me, the alcohol softening his features. 

I nodded, finally spotting my phone under Gakupo’s guitar case. As I walked towards the door, Gakupo took a step towards me, and a bit too quickly for my senses, wrapped his arms around my rib cage, pulling me into a tight hug. 

It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but I found myself hugging him back, finding the situation oddly comforting and a bit too uncomfortably arousing at the same time.

“Thank you for helping me tonight.” I could feel his words brush along my neck, leaving chills down my spine. 

“I--... You’re welcome.” I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, taking in the floral scent of his skin. “It’s nothing really.”

“You were beautiful too, you know,” he seemed a bit hesitant to say it, his voice quieter than usual, “Not only as a drummer. Just in general.” 

I don’t know if it was the alcohol or just the fact that I was so exhausted from the evening, but I couldn't bring myself to pull myself away from him, despite the fact that my face heated up to an unbearable temperature.

He pulled away, if only to inspect my face. When he saw my expression, he apologized immediately, “Was that too far? I’m sorry, I couldn't help myself. I mean, you had said it first, technically…” 

Just outside the door behind him, my boyfriend sat, waiting for me to take him home, yet I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stand here forever, looking at the flustered tattoo artist that continued to stammer apologies. I couldn't have ever imagined I would ever see him in such a state, yet here he was, vulnerable and so sickeningly attractive. If I had taken one more shot, I would have done something wretched but I only laughed a bit too loudly, pulling myself away from him. 

“Thank you.” I felt a false sense of self confidence in that moment that I clung onto, hoping to get out of this room without feeding into my selfish desires. He was affectionate when he was drunk. A compliment like that only seemed reasonable for someone like him, right?

He laughed with me, “Right. Get home safe tonight.” He leaned in and whispered to me like we were in the crowd rather than the empty backroom. 

“You too.” I slipped past him and back into the bar. 

Len watched me as I approached, and I simply couldn't wait to take him home to finally get the chance to use him to release all of the pent up energy I had acquired throughout the past few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel the need to mention that I don't know anything about music. I had to do a ridiculous amount of research to get to this point, making it an unbelievably long chapter for me to try to maneuver. I might have to edit this later, since it's not my best work, but I did want to at least post what I had written, in the meantime.
> 
> For anyone that is wondering, I pretty much pictured Gakupo singing "Specimen Girl" the entire time I wrote this, because I still can't get over the range of his voice in that song. Plus, I love a good yandere.


	6. Chapter 6

I loved the way his hair always seemed to glow, even in the low light of my apartment. The moonlight hits it just right through my blinds and the yellow color reminds me of liquid gold. It’s like a halo, soft around his face as he buried it deep in my pillow. I ran my fingers along the hair that frames his face, down the length of his shoulder, then down his back, following the path of his spine. 

“Keep doing that, please.” His voice is muffled, but I manage to decipher the request and complied.

How many hours had he worked today? Just as much, if not more, than me, undoubtedly. His job is much more exhausting, though, and I’ve noticed just how much it takes out of him as he visits me more in the evenings after his shift. He’d been exceptionally quiet as of late, his demeanor demure and reserved, which I suspected was at least a bit out of character, as much as I enjoyed the time it gave me to admire him. 

I leaned in and kissed his forehead, taking in the scent of his skin and shampoo. “How are you feeling, Len?”

He tilts his head just enough to look at me from the corner of his eye. “Why are you asking?”

“Is it inappropriate for me to?” I brushed his hair from his face. He leaned into my palm like a cat. 

“No,” He sounded a bit defeated. “You just don’t ask questions like that, usually.”

He wasn’t lying, but it still stung to have that brought up. My communication skills are subpar, at best. I wasn’t sure how to ask the question again in a way that showed that I cared enough, so I changed my approach. 

“You seem tired.”

“I’ve been working a lot.” He sounded like he wanted to say more, but nearly a minute passed before he continued, “My sister is dating someone new, and I can’t stand him. He’s always at our apartment. I haven’t had the chance to talk to Rin in a week.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad she found someone to spend her time with, but he’s loud and he looks at her like a wolf. I can’t stand it.” He sits up next to me and leans his head on my shoulder. “I think she’s going to invite him to move in with us.”

I put my laptop aside, putting off reports for work to give him my full attention. “You have a say in that, no?”

Len’s face is more expressive than I believe he wants it to be. He looks incredibly conflicted, from the pout on his lips to the distant look in his eyes. “Yeah, of course, but who am I to tell her no?”

“The fact that you're her roommate? And her brother?” That might be a bit too blunt, but I can’t help myself. The notion that he was powerless in this situation was ridiculous. 

“I think she wants me to move out.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” His voice is a bit strained. “She’s been so weird. Like, we haven’t talked at all. She’s got a great job and could definitely pay for the apartment herself, and she knows that I could afford my own, but I don’t want to leave. I like living with her. I don’t want to live alone.”

My next statement came out before I could think about it. “Then move in here.” 

The expression on his face reflected the same emotion I held internally. 

“You’re not actually serious, are you?” He turned to look at me in the eye, the distaste evident. 

“It was a suggestion…” I trailed off, regretting speaking on impulse. 

“Kaito, I barely know you.” I noticed how uncomfortable he was when he began to move away. I had to restrain myself from reaching out to him, hoping to end the awkward air that began to rise. “You don’t talk about yourself at all. Like, all I know is where you work and the kinds of  _ things _ you’re into. Moving in with someone is a huge step for two people that barely know each other.”

“What would I need to tell you?” I tried to make this a little easier for myself, but he kept going. 

“ _ Anything.  _ You could literally tell me  _ anything _ and it would be progress, but you never tell me anything. You call me your boyfriend, but I don’t know much more about you than I do a client, it’s depressing. You’re distant and aloof and I could never live with someone that I  _ don’t know _ .” 

Even though I wanted to pretend like I wasn’t, I knew I was distant. I did it on  _ purpose _ , for Christ sake. If I start opening up to someone, I risk telling them something I would regret immediately. I don’t know what he’ll think of me if he finds out about the incident, and that terrifies me. If he sees me through the lens that the general public viewed me when it happened, he would leave me immediately, and it would be disappointing to have that happen after things had been going well. 

A sick part of me wanted to tell him and have him respond in this way. The twisted part of me that wanted to have him leave me to give me the time to devote to the tattoo artist I would be meeting tomorrow evening, which I had managed to omit from conversation, but that part of me was unreasonable and too emotionally driven. What was reasonable, instead, was to at least keep the less savory parts of my past from the poor boy and at least give him time to think of me as a somewhat decent person, even if that image would be shattered if I eventually told him the truth. 

After a moment, I sighed, knowing I needed to do something about this, even if it meant carefully avoiding the time period between my fourteenth birthday and the day I lost everything when I had barely turned twenty. 

“I’m Saiki Kaito. I’m twenty six years old, and I work in a music store. I grew up outside of Oykot with my parents and my twin brother. My family calls me ‘Taro’. I studied abroad in Acirema when I was in high school at an elite music school, and I have a Bachelor of Arts in Music. I like coffee, ice cream, and Shakespeare. What else do you need to know?”

Len glared at me, but only for a moment, before he laughed. “You like ice cream?”

“I guess that’s an understatement. I  _ love _ ice cream.” I smiled at him, reaching out for his hand. 

“Like you  _ love _ coffee.”

“I have a love-hate relationship with coffee.” 

He moved in towards me again, returning his head to my shoulder, a bit more relaxed than he was before. 

“What else do you want to know, Len? I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Just keep going. Tell me everything.”

While I couldn’t do that, I went on, hoping that the very surface of my existence would be all he needed to know, and that I still had the chance to live in the life I had dragged together after I was removed from one of the most famous orchestras in the world. 

...

“It’s Gakupo, isn’t it? The artist that has a studio across the street; that’s who you’re going to see?”

I didn’t even have to tell Meiko that I was meeting him about this tattoo again. I’m not even sure how she managed to connect such dots since the last time I saw her. I was hoping she wouldn't be in tonight, that it would be the other manager or the owner, yet here she was, giving me a hard time about ordering a black coffee and an americano. 

“It might be.” I mumbled, slipping some cash on the counter, unconsciously looking at the people around me as I fiddled with the bag I had brought with the clothes that Gakupo had let me borrow in it. 

“He has the only studio in the area, and  _ Love’s Clover _ is closed, so I can’t imagine you’re going there.” She smirked, taking the cash in putting it in the till. “I think I know why you’re doing it.”

“Don’t start terrorizing me,” I leaned in on the counter on the palms of my hands to speak to her a bit more quietly. “It’s another consultation. That’s it. ”

She mirrors my actions, leaning in towards me to make her next snide comment. “Are you sure you’re not going to hook up with him?”

I threw my hands up in the air, forgetting for a moment that I was having this conversation with her in public. I continued in the hushed tone, “I am  _ not  _ talking about this with you right now.”

“Look, it would make a lot more sense. You haven’t seen anyone in a long time. He’s a pretty attractive guy, too.” She might as well be screaming to everyone in the cafe at this point. “I don’t think you’re even actually considering the tattoo, because you’re not the type to get one.”

“I’m not discussing my personal life with you.”

“Well,  _ have  _ you seen anyone since we stopped seeing each other?” 

I sighed too loudly; there’s a young man that I can see from the corner of my eye who is taking his earbuds out, trying not to make it obvious that he’s watching us. This is painful. 

“I’m already seeing someone, Meiko, drop it.”

The way her face lit up was irritating. I was too tired to deal with this. I had stayed up all night with Len, answering all of the questions he asked, listening to every story he told me, and I was exhausted and running a bit short on time to make it to the studio by eleven.

“It’s  _ not  _ Gakupo? When were you going to tell me?” The hushed, shrill tone of her voice rang like a whistle in my ears. 

“I’m not your son; I don’t need to report to you.” I felt a bit guilty for getting so snippy with her, despite the fact that I knew it wouldn’t bother her. “I have the appointment in fifteen minutes, and I don’t want to be late, please.”

Her face dropped a bit, but her energy returned as she turned to make the drinks. “We’re going for Lunch this weekend, and you’re not getting out of it.”

“Don’t you have a family to spend time with?” I said to her back, knowing she would ignore me. 

Telling her vaguely about Len did what I intended, which was to drop this conversation, but it opened up a rather new, forced interaction that I didn’t want to take part in. Her desire to fill the gaps in my life was too overbearing. If I wasn’t so fond of her, I’d be tempted to never speak to her again as to avoid talking about Len in such a trivial way. 

I took a seat at the table closest to the counter, taking out my phone to check the messages I had received. An email from my boss about upcoming appointments, a picture message from Len that I’m sure wouldn't be decent to open in public, a message from Miku that I still couldn’t figure out how to respond to… It’s odd how populated my inbox had been as of late. 

For the past few days, Miku and I had been messaging rather consistently. I assume she was rather bored on her tour, since most of the time she was cooped up in a van with her manager and groupmates. It was a nice change of pace, considering the messages I shared with Len were typically not appropriate and too distracting to think about while around others. The only complaint I had was that she had sent me an unreasonable amount of selfies. I’m sure I’ve memorized every aspect of her face at this point, and possibly the faces of her group mates too. 

The bell on the front door rings, and unconsciously, I glance over out of quick curiosity, only to find a familiar person walking in. 

I hadn’t expected to see Kiyoteru there. It was difficult to tell that it was him in the first place, since he wasn’t a particularly unique individual, but the cold expression on his face was a dead giveaway. The fact that his gaze fell on me immediately only made it more obvious. 

He walked past me without a word, which I was relieved about, and ordered something with the other girl who was working this evening. The monotone of his voice left the air of the cafe chilled, and the ice made its way to my table as he sat down across from me, no greeting, no pleasantries. 

I don’t know what it was about the way his face fell when I looked at me, but I was unsettled. I couldn’t manage to say anything to him, but it was difficult to keep my jaw from falling slack. 

“Do you live on this side of town?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses. 

“I- No, I don’t.” I wasn’t sure exactly what to say to him. He was intense, too intense for me to handle in such a public space. I hadn’t befallen such a scrutinizing gaze in years. 

“Gumi told me you work in a music store, is that true?” 

“Yes.” I felt like I was being interrogated. If I even uttered more than three words, he might cross examine my responses, leaving me guilty of a crime I didn’t commit. 

“Which one?”

“ _ Prima _ .”

“The one Tonio owns?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know Tonio?” 

I wasn’t sure what he was getting at, but I suspected that Kiyoteru was, in fact, trying to get something out of me. What he wanted, I wasn’t sure, but felt my adrenaline spike, and I had to physically force myself to stay seated, despite the perceived threat. He knew my boss, which wasn’t strange, since his shop was relatively popular among musicians, but the fact that he was trying to pick apart why I knew him made my skin crawl. 

“I would buy my strings from him when I first started playing violin.” I hoped that Meiko could sense my discomfort and would  _ hurry up with the damn coffee before I lose my mind _ . 

I don’t know what expression Kiyoteru was wearing now. Something between suspicion and criticism, but either way, it was terrible. 

“You said your last name was Saiki, right?”

I don’t know why he was so set on my name, but that made the situation even more nerve wracking. He surely couldn’t suspect anything, could he? I had been careful for years, leaving no trace of my previous life in my current one. He had no reason to suspect anything, but the idea that somehow he knew me before and that something I had said to Gumi had led him to try to pry. That must be impossible; Oykot was a vast enough city that such a coincidence seemed unlikely, but it still didn’t stop the lingering feeling that he saw something in me that I had been hiding. 

I affirmed his statement after what felt like an unreasonable amount of silence between us. 

“You’re not online anywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was looking for your contact information.” He shrugged, “Anything, really. Social media, professional websites,  _ something _ . You didn’t come up.”

I was a bit relieved when he confirmed that, but it quickly led to another line of questioning. “Why were you looking for my contact information?”

“I have something I would like to discuss with you,” he pulled his cell phone out of the pocket of his suit jacket, unlocked it, and held it in my direction, “I think your phone number would do.”

“No offense,” I picked at my nails, unsure of what to do with my hands, “But I’m not comfortable handing out my personal information to people I don’t know.”

“It’s a business proposition.” He kept his phone extended towards me, “Leave your email or fax number. I don’t really care, I just need a way to contact you.” 

“I’m not looking for a job.”

“Look,” Kiyoteru’s cool edge broke for a moment, his impatience peppering his words. He was able to regain his composure immediately before he continued. “Don’t make this so difficult. I’m not asking you to sign a contract right now—.”

I was relieved when Meiko called my name out to alert me that the coffee was ready. She caught Kiyoteru’s attention long enough for me to slip out of my seat, and get to the counter to grab them before he could try to convince me not to. 

“I have an appointment; I have to go.” I murmured to Kiyoteru before I slipped past him. 

He called out to me as I managed to get to the front door, but I ignored him, able to escape before I felt compelled to give my contact information.

I stepped into the cold night, and walked across the empty street to the alleyway towards Gakupo’s studio as quickly as I could, in the hopes of losing Kiyoteru if he decided to come after me. I stopped and took a breath as I turned the corner, trying to steady my breath and calm myself before I ascended the stairs. 

My nerves were frayed from both the interaction with the pushy stranger that is Kiyoteru and the rush of excitement that washed over me as I mentally prepared myself to see Gakupo. 

I hadn’t seen or really spoken to Gakupo since Saturday night, other than the text I sent him this morning to confirm that we would be meeting today, which he only replied with a single word response. It wasn’t a particularly long time, but after he had called me beautiful after the awkward exchange we had, I couldn't keep him fully out of my head. Maybe I was overthinking everything, but the idea that he could be interested in me in the slightest was intoxicating. 

When I managed to feel a bit calmer, I made my way up the stairs, considering what exactly would happen this evening. 

When I opened the door, Gakupo was speaking to Luka, who was pulling on her jacket. He sat behind the front desk, sorting through piles of papers. His hair was pulled back, his glasses perched on his nose, and the smile he had on his lips as he looked at me was incredible. 

“What did I tell you? I don’t think I’ve ever met a person that was so punctual.” Gakupo laughed, putting the papers down. 

“Early by a few minutes,” Luka responded with a smile of her own as she looked at her phone, “But you’re right: he’s got great timing.”

I looked down at the two drinks in my hands as I shut the door, “Hey, I’m sorry, Luka, I didn’t know you would be here. Should I go grab you something? Do you like black coffee? You can have mine--.”

“No, no,” She waved her hands, picking her purse off the desk. “Gumi and I have a movie date tonight. I promised her I would be back at the apartment when we closed. Thanks though.”

“Of course.” I smiled as I begrudgingly watched her lean in and give Gakupo a quick kiss before I opened the door for her to leave. 

When I closed the door again, Gakupo stood up and asked, “Did you bring one of those for me, or are you preparing for a long night?”

I held the americano out to him and he crossed over to take it from me. 

“Were you two busy? I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.”

“Stop apologizing,” he took a sip of the coffee and hummed in an approving tone. “You’re brilliant for ordering this for me. It’s perfect. The manager made it, right?”

I nodded, taking a sip of my own coffee to keep me from smiling like an idiot for remembering the order he mentioned last week. I then held out the paper bag I was carrying to him, “Thank you for letting me borrow these. I washed them.”

He took the bag, thanked me, then continued. “We weren’t busy,” he said as he walked back to the front desk, fanning out the papers he’d been holding before. “I was signing some contracts, but they don’t need to be finished tonight. I’ll get them done in the morning.”

“Contracts?” I took a few steps to stand behind him, using curiosity as an excuse to move closer to him. 

“Yeah, Miku’s manager hired the girls and I for the local show in a few weeks. I think rehearsals start soon.” He put the papers back down on the desk and turned towards me, tilting his head to the side. “So, ready to see what I created for you?”

With how close he was, I couldn’t help but find myself lost in his face as I had so many times before. I cursed the low light of the studio for extenuating the sharpness of his features, leaving me nearly incapable of speech. I replied, barely, with an affirmation, that scarcely escaped the back of my throat. 

“Let’s go to the back, yeah?” I wanted to mistake his tone for something a little more sensual, but it was more likely that he was mocking my own response, and I turned away from him before he could see the color rising on my face. 

The door to the backroom was open, and I took the liberty of sitting down before he instructed me to to try to relive some of the awkwardness I found myself in once again by taking off my coat and making myself a bit more comfortable. 

“Speaking of Miku,” Gakupo followed behind me with a leather portfolio in his hands, “She’s taking us to a crepe place on Saturday. She was adamant that I invite you.”

I thought back to my previous conversations with her, sure that she hadn’t brought this up with me previously. Why hadn’t she mentioned it to me? Considering how often she had messaged me, it would have made sense for her to bring it up; why was she using him to invite me? 

“Are you free?” He took a seat across from me in the hideous arm chair and flipped through the portfolio. 

“I think so,” I picked at the lid of my coffee cup, watching him flip through all of the sketches, catching glimpses of floral patterns, insects, and geometric designs I didn’t have the chance to fully comprehend. “I’ll get back to you for sure.”

“You don’t have plans with Len?”

I sighed, “He’s not my keeper, Gakupo.”

“But he  _ is  _ your boyfriend.” He looked up at me, his sly smirk curling the ends of his lips. 

I cleared my throat before answering, “I think I’ve made that obvious.”

“You don’t need to be so defensive about it.” For some reason, I felt like he was enjoying making me uncomfortable.

“I’m not getting defensive,” I realized how contradictory my voice sounded as I was saying that, then quickly changed my own tactics. “I’m not fond of talking about my relationships status publicly, that’s all.”

“He’s cute,” Gakupo closed the portfolio as he took a drawing out. “Not my type, but cute, nonetheless.”

“What is your type, then?” I shouldn’t have asked, but the fact that he mentioned that he had a type when it came to men was a suddenly exciting development. 

He tapped his finger to his lips for a few moments, “I suppose I like someone that’s a bit reserved and quiet.” He laughed, “Admittedly, I like people that aren’t as eccentric as myself.”

I couldn’t help but silently celebrate his description. I could certainly fit it, but, of course, so did his girlfriend. Though, it was his girlfriend that mentioned I was his type the other day...

“Right,” I looked down to the drawing in his hand, trying to hide the giddiness that reverberated in my chest. “Is that the design?”

“Yes,” He held it out to me, “It had taken me a few days to get it right, and I had to do it in color, despite my general distaste, but I think that it would suit you.”

The drawing was of a plant stem with three leaves, two white flowers, and a few scattered red berries. I had no idea what it was, but it was nice. The bold lines matched the style of the other drawings of his that I had seen. 

“It’s a  _ coffea arabica  _ branch.” he moved and took a seat next me on the love seat, pointing at the berries on the branch, “The seeds in these are coffee beans. I figured something like this would be a bit subtle and less tacky than a coffee cup.”

“A coffee plant?” I had never actually considered where coffee beans came from. For some reason, I just assumed they were picked from the ground, the process of their existence a mystery, which was far fetched, of course. 

“A coffee plant.” He repeated, “I thought you might like that.”

“I do, it’s great,” I scanned over the drawing again. It was much larger than I anticipated, spanning at least six inches in length. “Where would it go?”

“I had a couple of ideas,” He took the drawing out of my hand gently and aligned it on the underside of my upper arm that was closest to him. “I didn’t have your measurements, but I had intended it to go here. It seems like it would fit well.”

I was too distracted by the pressure of his hand on my arm to reply. 

“Of course,” He then moved the drawing from my arm to my torso, on my ribcage. “It could work here, too, but I’ll be honest; it’ll hurt a lot considering the linework. How are you with pain?”

“I have a high tolerance.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” I remembered this flirtatious tone of voice that he used with Len when he had gotten his tongue pierced, which led me to believe he was like that with all of his clients. “Any other ideas? Where would you want it?”

“I’m not sure.” I still hadn’t actually considered this tattoo, but this discussion made me realize that this was actually starting to happen, and that I was actually going to have to consider putting this branch on my body permanently. I couldn’t back out, but Meiko’s recommendation of putting off the tattoo idea suddenly seemed a bit more reasonable than I had previously thought. 

“You seem nervous.” He pulled the drawing away from my chest. “Everything alright?”

I tried to come up with some kind of excuse to avoid telling him that I might be considering this tattoo only to spend time with him. “I’ve never done anything like this. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like it, so I’m a bit unsure, I suppose.”

“That’s right,” I loved the way his eyes grew wide at the statement, “You haven’t had any body modifications.”

I shook my head, “I do have a high pain tolerance, but I have nothing to compare it to.”

“It’s not terrible,” when he grabbed my hand I unconsciously held my breath, “Look, it’s like this.”

Then he bit me. He  _ actually bit me.  _ I don’t know what act of an uncaring god compelled him to, but there he was, the tip of my  _ fucking  _ index finger in his mouth, and I can’t even begin to consider why this was happening and  _ why on earth _ it turned me on as much as it did.

He didn’t seem phased by it until he pulled away, when his eyes grew wide again and his smile turned wicked, “Kaito, are you-.”

“Stop,” I covered my mouth with my hands and turned away from him, trying to calm down, “Please don’t say it.”

“You  _ are!”  _ He laughed, “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.” 

I should leave, I didn’t have a reason to stay. This was getting to the point that I wasn’t sure I could recover from this level of embarrassment. If he managed to do one more thing, I have no idea what I would do or if I could stay civil. 

“It’s cute,” he pulled my hands away from my face, “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. I thought that if I showed you something similar, it would alleviate some of the uncertainty. Apparently I just caused another problem.”

“Oh god, please stop.” I looked at the ceiling, knowing that I was just making everything worse. 

“Are you a masochist?” I didn’t like that he whispered that to me. Well, I  _ did _ , but I really didn’t want him to. 

“Gakupo, you’re not helping me.” 

“No, that’s  _ perfect _ ,” He entangled his fingers in mine, a new sense of excitement raising the pitch of his voice. “I’d rather have you turned on than freaked out--.”

“Stop!” I whined. I, a grown adult, was whining to another grown adult while he was holding my hands in the back room of his studio. “Please, Gak, you’re driving me insane.”

“Are you attracted to me?” 

I couldn’t look at him. This couldn’t be happening right now. 

“Are you?” I could feel that he leaned in closer to me. 

When I looked back at him, he was much closer than I anticipated. I nearly hit his nose with my own. 

“Don’t make me say it.” I could barely utter the sentence. 

“You  _ are _ ,” he purred, gripping my hands tighter. “I had my suspicions.”

“I’m not here to talk about this…”

“Come now, you can’t say this isn’t exciting-.”

“It’s anxiety inducing.”

“Why? Friends can talk about how attracted to one another, can’t they? What’s the harm? We’re dating other people, after all.” 

“You don’t just talk to your friends about your attraction to them.” I pulled my hands away to bury my face in them in the hope of hiding the fact that it was nearly impossible for my face to become more flushed. 

“Why not? You’re a very attractive person. I don’t see why I shouldn’t tell you that.” he slipped his hand under mine to turn my face towards him again. “It’s nice to know you feel the same way.”

I don’t know why he was so open about these kinds of things. I can’t argue with him about this, per se, because being attracted to one another wasn’t adulterous, but it felt strange. I’ve never told someone I was attracted to them without the intention of hooking up with them. 

“Well, I suppose it  _ is  _ nice to know,” It was a bit of a relief to admit it, but I wanted to change the subject before it could go in a direction that was out of my control. “But, this was supposed to be about the tattoo.” 

“Right,” I was relieved that he pulled his hand away, “Want to get it out of the way tonight? I think I could get the whole thing done in three hours, tops.”

I glared at him unintentionally. “No. No, this is not happening yet, I still need to think about it.” 

“Come on, it’ll be quick-.”

“I have to work in the morning.”

“It’ll only be a little sore-.”

“I have to get up early.”

“What’s a couple more hours?”

“I’m not giving into your peer pressure.”

He laughed, then stood up taking the drawing with him and returning it to the portfolio. “If there’s no tattoos being completed tonight, let's get out of here and have a drink, yeah? I know a great place a couple of blocks from here that serve cheap drinks on weekdays.” 

“I have to work early-.”

“Just a drink then. I’ll pay for your cab back.” He smiled, holding out his hand to help me out. 

I took it and sighed, “One drink.”

“Great.” He walked towards the door as I pulled my coat back on and stopped when he passed the door frame. “I’ll get everything locked up and then well go.” He then turned to me. “By the way, I’d prefer it if you call me Gak more often. It’s cute when you say it.” 

I hadn’t even realized that I had called him that, but now that he asked, I don’t think I could ever call him by his real name again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on Kiyoteru: I know he's super out of character. I needed someone to play the role of antagonist, and I was determined to use him, but I made his character a lot colder than he's typically portrayed. Sorry.


	7. Chapter 7

The bar Gakupo dragged me to was similar to the bar we had performed in on Saturday. It was smaller and less populated, but the layout was almost identical. A small bar, a small stage, and enough space for maybe one hundred people to sit around at uncomfortably tall tables and stools. This evening, the bar was far from maximum capacity; a few older patrons murmured in hushed tones to one another as a young jazz singer performed, a bit out of tune, on the small stage, accompanied by a pianist playing a piano that was poorly tuned as well.

  
I stood and watched the girl attempt to reach a note out of her hoarse range as Gakupo led me by my coat sleeve away from the entrance. While I continued to silently criticize the performers when we sat at the bar, Gakupo ordered two classes of scotch while chatting with the bartender, and returned his full attention to me once the drinks were delivered.  
“What time do you work in the morning?” He handed me the glass while he leaned his head on his hand, taking a sip of his own drink.

  
I stared at the scotch for a second, allowing an intrusive thought of downing the drink in a few moments to burn my throat to pass, before I responded. “Ten.”

  
“That’s not that early.” He put his drink down and smirked, probably mocking me.

  
“I still have to catch the train. I’m lucky if I make it to work on time if I wake up at eight.”

  
He shook his head, as if to show that I was missing some jest, and changed the subject. “You work in a music store, right?”

  
I nod, appreciating the subtle burn of the scotch in my throat as I sip at it.

  
“Seems a little too underwhelming for someone of your obvious talent.” I watched him trace his fingers along the rim of his glass with his finger lazily, “You should be a concert musician or something equally as pretentious.”

  
I wanted to laugh, but I suspected he would press for more information, so I only flashed him a hint of a smile. “I could say the same of you, I suppose.”

  
“Oh?” He seemed amused to have the topic reverted to him.

  
“You’re a talented performer, yet you’re a humble tattoo artist by title.”

  
He laughed a little too loudly. “You’re too kind. A tattoo artist isn’t a particularly humble trade. Plus, I’d say I’m still a rather active performer.”

  
In the low light of the bar, the color on Gakupo’s face, while subtle, led me to trace his cheekbones with my eyes, slowly and carefully, recognizing the unfamiliar softness of his face that seemed so sharp from far away. His skin is like porcelain, appearing almost poreless, without a single visible scar or blemish that I could decipher without moving closer. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining this, or if this perfection was grounded in reality rather than my own obsession, but I wanted to argue with every artist on this planet that they would never have the chance to carve something as beautiful as the face before me out of marble.  
“My work is mainly contracted work for other singers and musicians in the past,” He continued, pulling me from my daze. “But, those paid gigs are what helped me to save up for the deposit on both my apartment and the studio. Now, I can focus on tattoos and a few shows and gigs here and there. I don’t have the energy for that kind of a lifestyle since the accident.”

  
I don’t know if he brought his hand to his chest unconsciously or for the sake of effect, but I was reminded that, unfortunately, the entirety of Gakupo wasn’t without mar. There was the scar that was covered at the moment, but still remained on the center of his chest. The scar was always hard to miss when he wore a shirt with a low enough neckline. While the attention should have been on the perfect, octagonal tattoos that seemed to run all over his torso, the scar was always there, taking the spotlight.

  
Admittedly, I was curious, as disrespectful as that was. He wouldn’t have mentioned it if he didn’t want me to know more about it, right? So, when I did ask him about it, he sighed, taking another, longer sip of his scotch.

  
“It happened about three years ago,” he ran his fingers along the hem of the collar on his shirt, as if he was trying to find the scar itself that was hidden beneath it, “I was in the passenger seat of someone’s car. It was late, I was incredibly drunk.”

  
He smiles, but it’s weak, the corner of his mouth twitching. It takes a few seconds before he continues, but the moments drag, leaving us in a slightly uncomfortable silence, which he breaks with a few disjointed chuckles as he continues.

  
“I don’t remember why I agreed to go with the driver in the first place.”

  
I feel that there is some apprehension in that statement, but when I tell him that he doesn’t have to continue, he shakes his head to silence me.

  
“No, it’s fine. Let me tell you;” He says before taking a deep breath and continuing, “Another driver ran headfirst into the passenger side of the car I was in at a speed a bit higher than the limit. I had to be rushed into emergency surgery. I ended up with seven broken ribs, a severely punctured lung, and a bit of internal bleeding. I was out of commission for nearly a year.”

  
I wish my emotional intelligence was a bit keener. If it were, I might have been able to definitively tell that his confident facade was faltering, unable to play off that this was some casual conversation topic, despite how willing he was to speak about it. Was he drowning his discomfort in that drink? Trying to hide sadness of anger in the smile that he may have been clinging to? I wasn’t sure. I wish that I knew him a bit better to know for sure, and know how to react in this situation. Instead, all I could do is stare at him, fiddling with my glass in hopes of having him fill in blanks without having to ask him to.

  
“But, none of that makes for particularly interesting conversation on an evening like this, does it?” I notice the shakiness in his breath, but I try not to make it evident that I do. I wasn’t sure why he had been so willing to bring it up if he was so uncomfortable talking about it. “I shouldn’t complain so much about it. Luka waited on me for nearly a month while I recovered. I suppose that makes the transition from being friends to a relationship a little bit smoother.”

  
“You weren’t dating before that?” Finally, a way out of that awkwardness.

  
“No, she was dating Kiyoteru.”

  
I was tempted to tell him that I had seen him at the cafe earlier, but I suspected that might be a conversation suited for a better time, when I understood the nature of Gakupo's apparent distaste for the other. “Is that why you dislike him?”

  
He snorted as he finished his drink, motioning the bartender for another, “No. I don’t like Kiyo because he is an obnoxious creep.”

  
The word ‘creep’ left me with an uneasiness, leaving me unsettled enough to slowly inquire as to what he was referring to.“He has no understanding of boundaries.”  
I laughed, without thinking, and replied, “Neither do you.”

  
There was a look of exaggerated disbelief that crossed Gakupo’s face, which may have been that exaggerated to hide the color rising on his cheeks. “You must not like me very much, Kaito. To compare me to him…”

  
“Elaborate a bit more, and I’ll decide if the two of you are so different.” I hoped that he couldn’t see through the mask of false self confidence and snarkiness I had risen.

  
“I don’t know how he does it,” Gakupo thanked the bartender as they placed another glass before him then returned his attention to me, “But he manages to find out everything about everyone. Where they live, work, their pasts. Before I had even met him, he mentioned something about me to Miku. The two were working together on some touring project, and he asked her about me. Poor thing, I’m sure she was confused.”

  
I had initially considered the fact that I had seen Kiyoteru an unfortunate coincidence. The meeting left me anxious and uncomfortable, but with this piece of information, those feelings paled in comparison to the terrorizing thought that Kiyoteru knew that I would be at the cafe somehow. I’m a careful person. An extremely careful person. There’s no way that a normal person would know where I was at anytime. My throat tightened at the thought that in some sadistic way, Kiyoteru had managed to find out that I would be meeting with Gakupo today and waited around to catch me alone. While the topic we discussed wasn’t, at first inspection, heinous, but the implications of Kiyoteru’s vague statements were alarming. A ‘business proposition’ could mean anything.

  
“Why was Luka dating him?” I hoped he couldn’t tell how distant I was as my mind raced with the morbid possibilities of what Kiyoteru wanted with me.

  
“You’re asking the wrong person. She was too good for him in the end; they broke up about a month before the accident. Then, when I was confined to my bed for a month to recover, we managed to find ourselves in the predicament we are today.” There was a bitterness in his voice that didn’t match the story he was telling, but I couldn’t tell where it had come from.

  
“You two have been together for three years, then?”

  
“Yes,” Gakupo had been watching the jazz singer half-heartedly, but turned his full attention to me when he continued, “How long have you been dating Len?”

  
I found it difficult to speak of my relationship in a public space like this, but I told him after assuring myself that no one was paying attention to us.

  
“Only a few months? You’re right in the thick of it.” Gakupo then leaned in closer, “Is he good?”

  
“What do you mean?” I stuttered, knowing fully what he meant.

  
“Now, now, you don’t have to be so prudish,” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “He seems like he would be devious behind closed doors. Maybe a bit in public too…”

I could feel the nearly empty glass in my hand begin to slip, the condensation causing it to slide through my loosened grip. I was able to catch it with my other hand before I managed to drop it, but I made a spectacle out of myself while doing it. To combat the feeling of inadequacy I felt from both Gakupo’s comments and my own foolishness, I downed the rest of the scotch and caught the attention of the bartender to order another. Gakupo’s sly smirk grew as he watched the spectacle.

I didn’t look at him again until the bartender handed me the drink and I downed half of it.

“You’re so sensitive.” He sipped at his own drink languidly, “I can’t help but be curious. He’s such a young, pretty thing. I’m sure he keeps you busy.”

“How do you manage to talk so crudely?” I leaned on the bar, rubbing my palms into my eyes, hoping that I could manage to come up with some excuse to leave suddenly.

“I haven’t said anything crude, but I could. Would you like me to?” He leaned in closer to me, “Are you enjoying that tongue piercing?”

Would crushing this flimsily glass in my hand be a bit too dramatic? It would certainly give me the much desired excuse to leave.  
“It hasn’t been four weeks…” I managed to say, unable to look at either Gakupo or the bartender who wore an expression of concern while they wiped down the glass I had been drinking out of previously. I’m sure that had to do with how red my face was.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure he’s following piercing recommendations religiously. All of my clients do. Look at Gumi! I tell her not to touch her tattoo, and no less than two hours later, I have to make an appointment for a touch up.” Gakupo leaned in again, “I’m sure it’s nice. I’m sure he knows how to use that smart mouth of his well. He’s such a brat, afterall.”

“Have you no shame?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Is embarrassing me fun for you?”

“A little,” Gakupo’s face was sincere, a little less snarky than it had been a moment ago, “You’re cute when you blush like that, I can’t help it. If it bothers you too much, I’ll stop, as much as it will pain me to do so.”

“Thank you.” I grabbed my new drink and took a long sip of it, intentionally turning away from Gakupo as I tried to get my face to return to its normal color. It was difficult to do that though, with the way Gakupo looked at me in the low light of the bar. If I wasn’t mistaken, there was a softness that dulled his expression as he stared at me, the sly fox transforming into a simple man before me. It didn’t help the color to fade from my face; it only managed to make it more difficult not to stare at him for the rest of the evening.  
...  
I was to be at a crepe shop downtown at one thirty. I was running late, unfortunately, since the young man in my bed was not particularly interested in remaining in my apartment by himself. It wouldn’t have been bad, if he didn’t also whine that he didn’t want to leave the apartment, either.

At the moment, He was leaning on the door frame of my bathroom, his hair mussed with sleep. He said something unintelligible, rubbing his eyes.  
For the past three days, he had stayed at my apartment after what I believe was a fight with his sister at two in the morning on Wednesday, which was the time I had managed to get home after I had nearly gotten drunk with Gakupo. I managed to sober up a bit before he arrived at three, but it didn’t matter anyway, since he was a bit beyond inebriated.

I looked at him in the mirror as I brushed my teeth, asking him if he worked today.

“The club is closed.” He seemed exhausted, but I don’t remember him staying up late. I was in bed by midnight, and I thought he had fallen asleep with me, but I may have been wrong. On Thursday night, I woke up to him flipping through channels on my television at four in the morning with the volume nearly silent.

“Just stay in, Len, dear,” I spit out the toothpaste and inspected my teeth before turning to him and kissing his forehead. “I’ll only be out a few hours, anyway. You can do whatever you want.”

“Don’t treat me like your house pet.” He crossed his arms, following me as I moved to my closet. “Where are you going, anyway. You don’t teach lessons on Saturdays and you don’t have any friends.”

I rolled my eyes at the spiteful comment. “Miku wanted to treat me for taking her place last week.”

“Hatsune Miku is taking you out?” He perked up, trying to catch my attention as I decided on a sweater to wear. “You’re going to go hang out with a mega popular idol? Without me?”

“I can’t invite other people with an invitation like this.” I decided on the white and grey sweater, since the blue one would clash too much with my blue scarf.

“I can’t believe you’re going out with her without me. What the hell are the two of you going to talk about? Have you ever seen her performances? Do you even know what group she is a part of?”

“No,” I pulled the sweater over my head and returned my attention to Len, whose face twisted into the childish grumpiness I had seen a lot recently. “I don’t need to know any of that, anyway. This is about the show, that’s it.”

“Is it just going to be the two of you?”

“I don’t know.” I lied, hoping that I wouldn’t make it obvious that the main reason I was going was because of Gakupo.

“Can I go with you? Please?” I liked the theatrics he used; clasping his hands in front of his chest, opening his eyes wide, the stubble lean towards me. It was fascinating to watch him use all of his host skills on me in my own apartment. I would have had to pay him quite a bit for such a display at Task.

“I can’t invite you. It’s not my place.”

“You can’t just leave me here by myself.” He wrapped his arms around my waist as I tried to pull my coat on. I don’t know where the clinginess was coming from, but I didn’t have time to discuss it at the moment.

“Call Fukase over, then. He’s not working either, right?” I wrapped my arms around his shoulder, unintentionally staring at the bruises on the back of his thighs.

He pulled away for a moment, narrowing his eyes at me, as if he were trying to analyze my last response. I wasn’t sure what warranted such an expression, so I only mirrored him until his face relaxed.

“Alright, fine,” He sighed burying his face in my chest. “When will you be back?”

“In a few hours,” I patted down his hair, trying to smooth down the hair sticking up in the back. “It won’t take long.”

“Hurry up and come home, okay?”

“Home?” I tilted his head to kiss him. “What was that you were saying about not being my house pet?”

He narrowed his eyes again, but didn’t say anything before I kissed him goodbye, grabbed my scarf and hurried out the door to catch the next train.

…

It was ten minutes until one thirty; I was running later than I expected, and I had to walk at a speed that was nearly a sprint through the usual weekend downtown crowd to get to the street that this shop was on.

As I rounded the corner, I saw Gumi, who was taking her time a few steps ahead of me. I called out to her, and she turned, but continued walking as if she hadn’t heard me.

When I caught up to her, she looked at me with a face that I couldn't help but assume was disgust.

“Is there a reason you ignored me?” I asked her, hoping that such a blunt question wouldn’t offend her.

“You were going to catch up to me anyway, what would be the use of slowing down and waiting for you?” She shifted the bag she had on the shoulder to the other one to keep it from hitting me as we walked side by side. “Why were you running anyway?”

“I’m late? You are too.”

“So? I was working. We can’t all have cushy jobs.”

“I’m not forcing you to work at that music studio.”

She smiled at me, which was something I hadn’t expected from such an icy person. “I guess you’re not.”

“Why were you working on a Saturday?”

“No gigs this weekend, so I gave the studio manager a few extra hours this morning. The second I give him any availability, he works me like a dog. I’m his only decent technician.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugged, looking far ahead of us, “Lead technicians get paid the most. Plus, I get free studio time whenever it’s free, so two birds, I guess.”

“Have you guys recorded anything in the studio?”

“With the band? Nah. It’s impossible to get Gakupo to do anything for too long without an audience. He needs his ego stroked by strangers.”

“Why do you work with him, anyway? You don’t speak very highly of him.”

“Don’t get it twisted,” She shook her head quickly at my question, “I love Gak, I do, he’s just such a pain in the ass. I’ve never met such a diva in my entire life.”  
We were close to the crepe place, the sign in the distance clear enough to read. I was relieved that there wasn’t any sign of anyone waiting outside.

“He doesn’t seem that bad. I’ve met worse.”

“You haven’t seen him at his worst. He’s playing nice because he has a crush on you. No demon would show it’s horns early, you know?”  
I wanted to keep cool at her comment, but the idea of Gakupo crushing on me left me speechless and giddy, despite the looming feeling that someone was listening in to our conversation as strangers passed by us.

She continued when I didn't respond to her. “You knew that, right? That he’s got a mad crush on you? I mean, it’s pretty obvious. He’s not the type to hang out with random people. You basically have to get a referral to spend time with him, or make an appointment, I guess. Plus, he never stops talking about you, like ever. You’d think Luka would get tired of it, but she thinks it’s endearing to see her boyfriend drool over some other guy. She’s a borderline looney herself.”  
I wanted to respond to her, but how would I when this kind of news was just dumped on me so casually as we walked down the crowded sidewalk to meet the same guy she was going on about. The thought that he actually had a crush on me was both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. This was everything I wanted and feared at the same time; my dreams and nightmares coming to life. I was excited, but what right did I have to be when I was supposed to be hurrying through this meeting to get back to what I could only assume was my depressed boyfriend.

“If I wasn’t head-over-heels for Luka, I would have dropped out of the band a long time ago. I can’t work with Gakupo willingly.”

Her comment snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked at her, demanding a further explanation.

“What? Look, we’re not the kind of people to keep these kinds of things quiet. She knows. Gakupo knows. Everyone knows. I mean, Luka and I live together. How would I hide something like that anyway? She seems happy enough with Gak. I have Kiyo to pass time. I just have to be okay with that, for now.”

“How can you stand that?”

“I have to do what I have to. That’s all. I don’t want to lose her. She means a lot to me. Plus, Gakupo is bound to do something stupid sooner than later, especially with you around.”

“I’m already dating someone else—.”

“Not the point.” She waved her hands. “I’ll eventually benefit from this situation. That’s what matters.”

I had a million questions to ask her, but we had arrived at the crepe shop and I knew that this conversation wouldn’t continue for now. I’d have to corner her alone eventually to continue my line of questioning, which seemed nearly impossible. I tried to hide my giddiness and regain my composure as I followed Gumi into the shop, but seeing Gakupo standing next to Miku and Luka looking over the menu made my heart flutter in my chest. It became worse when he looked at us over his shoulder and smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in the process.

As we approached, Miku called out, rushing over to us to wrap her arms around our necks.

She felt so strangely familiar at this point. She had been texting me constantly since she had gotten my number, and while we had yet to really speak in person, I could feel the same energy from her messages radiating from her in person.

“Thank you so much for coming!” She directed her words to both of us, but managed to maintain more eye contact with me. “I’ve been so excited to see the both of you.”

“Thank you for the invitation.” I bowed slightly, unsure of how to match her energy.

“No need to be so formal.” Gumi elbowed me in the ribs a little too aggressively. “It’s nice to see you. Did you have a good trip?”

“Yes! It was a lot of fun. They’re already making plans for a longer tour next year.”

Her and Gumi continued their conversation a bit longer before Luka called us over to order.

I watched the three girls begin ordering, staying a few steps behind to figure out what to order myself.

Gakupo stood next to and spoke in a low tone, “To think, I doubted your punctuality for a moment. It was Gumi’s fault, wasn’t it?”

“We ran into each other. I couldn’t run off without her.”

“Aren’t you sweet. You don’t absolutely reek of coffee. You didn’t get the chance to grab some before getting here? I don’t think they have anything other than sweet drinks here.”

“I was busy this morning. I’ll grab something on my way home, it’s fine.”

“If you say so,” he looked up at the menu himself, scanning the crepe toppings slowly before continuing. “I can’t imagine you would enjoy anything here. You don’t like sweet things.”

“I love sweets.” I responded.

“Your coffee is always black. You gave the spiked coffee to Miku the other night—.”

“I don’t like sweet coffee.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t tell him; I could barely acknowledge the reason myself without breaking down. Even now, I could feel my throat swell, making it difficult to swallow.

“I don’t like sweet coffee.” I repeated, readjusting my scarf to hide my clenched jaw.

Gakupo stared at me, trying to find the answer to the reason I was curt, but shrugged, changing the subject to what he was planning to order.

Ordering the food became a fiasco; the five crepe orders were mixed up due to Miku’s determination to pay for everything and the poor cashier’s first-day panic. It was at least forty minutes before we actually got the chance to take a seat at the booth in the corner of the cafe with the ridiculous amount of confectioneries.

I was squeezed in between Miku and Gakupo; the former showing me something on her phone, while the latter managed to bring me closer to him by resting his arm on the backrest, tracing circles on my shoulder. There were three conversations happening that both Miku and Gakupo would pop into, leaving me to try to decipher the foreign topics and inside jokes. My attempts often fell short, and I was left to focus on eating the ice cream from my crepe before it melted.

I had been hyper focused on a strawberry when Miku wrapped her arms around my arm closest to her.

“You have to come! I can get you a VIP ticket!”

I looked at her, slowly chewing the same strawberry I had been inspecting, trying to figure out what she was talking about. The others took my silence as an admission of not paying attention.

“Miku’s show in a couple of weeks,” I wanted to thank Luka for the kind tone she took for my ignorance, “It’s sold out, but I’m sure we can get you in.”

“It’s going to be huge.” Gumi continued, squishing down cheesecake with her fork, “We’re gonna be performing in one of the biggest venues in Oykot. I mean, we’ll just be the lowly live accompaniment for Miku’s group, but still. It would be stupid to miss it.”

“Not nice, Gumi.” Gakupo added, now squeezing my shoulder. “I don’t know if standing in a crowd of people to watch us perform is really his scene—.”

“I can get him into the manager suite.” Miku turned her attention back to me. “If you don’t mind sitting with my managers, that is.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go through that kind of trouble—.”

Miku interrupted me before I could manage to get out of this. “It’s no big deal. I would really love it if you came.”

Len would be so upset if I went. He had mentioned trying to get tickets to this after the show the other night, but that the venue had sold out immediately. He would be furious if I went without him, since this was, yet again, an invitation for me exclusively. Len was already in such a fragile position and the idea of crossing him, as his sister apparently had, left me uncomfortable.

“I’ll consider it.” I smiled at Miku’s expectant expression, unsure of what else to do in this particular situation.  
She seemed pleased enough with such a response, but when I turned to my crepe again with the shift in conversation to something unrelated to me, I could see, from the corner of my eye, that Gakupo’s expression had dropped, his eyes locked on me. I don’t know why he had become so serious in that moment, but a part of me felt guilty. Perhaps it was because I hadn’t given Miku a straight answer, or, in my wildest imagination, this was related somehow to what Gumi had said about his feelings towards me earlier, and I was just too dull and loyal to do anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away for so long: isolation depression hit me hard for quite a while. 
> 
> This is a particularly boring chapter, but I think the story will officially start picking up in the next chapter (aka the chapter where Kaito's life starts to get a bit more complicated).


	8. Chapter 8

As expected, when I told Len that I had been invited to attend the concert, he was livid. 

“You’re not going to go, are you?” He was sitting on my couch as I made us coffee, but my statement motivated him enough to stand up and slam his hands on the counter next to me. 

Admittedly, I had spent three days considering if I should tell Len about this. I had secretly hoped he would make up with his sister and be back to living at his apartment by now. This would have made it easier to sneak off to the concert without his knowledge, but he had been staying with me for the past three weeks. He wasn’t a bad roommate by any stretch of the imagination; he was quiet while I worked on reports for my boss, helped clean up when he was left home alone in the mornings, and even gave me money to pay half of the rent last week, yet here I was, a little disappointed that my boyfriend was now living with me, rather than giving me the chance to do things behind his back. If I ever needed another reason to despise myself, this could certainly be a contender. 

“I haven’t given her an answer,” I said quietly, stirring milk into Len’s mug before handing it to him. “I’m not particularly interested in going in the first place.”

“ _ Then don’t. _ ” He willingly took the mug, though it looked as if he considered it for a few moments to emphasize his frustration with me. His aggression wasn’t very convincing when I looked down at his work uniform. I couldn’t help but let my thoughts wander to the things I would like to do to him in those clothes. 

“Would you turn down an invitation from a friend so quickly?” I walked over to the couch to return to my laptop where the email to my boss I was attempting to compose waited. I shouldn’t have brought this topic up with him now. I was hoping it would be a brief conversation, but Len’s lecturing has been incessant for at least twenty minutes. I was losing my train of thought about the financial statements and order requests. How many reeds did we need? Who had ordered the pricey gut core strings again? It was worthless to try to collect my thoughts now. 

“So you’re  _ friends  _ with her now?” there was an unnecessary amount of spite in his words that I hadn’t expected. 

“You’re missing the point—.”

“ _ You’re _ missing the point, Kaito.” With that tone, I almost expected him to slap me or throw that boiling coffee in my face. “You were  _ so  _ nice to her when she called the other night at that bar. I see you texting her all the time— half the time she is sending you pictures of herself. You went to see her without me the other day. Now she is giving you a free ticket to a sold-out concert! A VIP one, no less—.”

“Are you implying something?”

“What I’m  _ implying  _ is that I think you’re  _ fucking  _ Hatsune Miku behind my back.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, unintentionally spilling coffee all over my shirt. I frantically moved to the kitchen, hissing from the burning sensation, but still couldn't contain my amusement. He was jealous. That’s what this was about. 

“What? Am I right?” Len’s voice was full of spite and frustration, but at the moment, I couldn't help but find it a little bit endearing.

After a few moments, when I was finally able to compose myself and take off the now stained tee shirt and throw it in the sink to try to hand wash it, I turned back to him, running my fingers along the light burn on my chest.

“I’m not  _ fucking  _ Hatsune Miku. Where on earth would you have gotten such a ridiculous idea?”

“Then why are you two always talking to each other?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe because we are, in fact, friends.”

“That’s stupid. No one wants to be friends with you.”

I don’t know why the comment pierced me so deeply, but it suddenly sobered the amusement I found from Len’s behavior. I didn’t know what to do other than stare at him, waiting to see what his next move would be; what weakness he would attack. 

“Unless you are fucking her, it’s useless for you to go to that stupid concert anyway.” He took a sip of his coffee and looked to the wall on the opposite side of the room. “Or is this about someone else?”

I didn’t reply to him.

“That tattoo artist?”

There it was. A truth I couldn’t deny, but I could certainly try. “You’re overreacting—.”

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting. You have to have some stupid motive. You’re a shut-in. An apathetic weirdo. You never do anything out of your strange little comfort zone. I don’t even know why I waste my time on you.”

Those were all fair comments, but they stung in a way I hadn’t felt in a while. The initial discomfort twisted into familiarity, enveloping me in a blanket of self-depreciation I didn’t usually allow myself to delve into. Physical pain was easier to drag myself out of, so I was able to rely on that to get through my days, but such emotional turmoil always dug much deeper. Existence was bitter, but this kind of stabbing honestly was sweet, leading to a disassociation that I had drifted in and out of for years. What a beautiful trigger this had turned into. 

“Are you going to say anything?” He looked back to me, his expression blank. 

I shook my head, unsure of what kind of weak sound would tumble out of my mouth if I tried. 

“Then I’m leaving. I’ll pick up my stuff after my shift.” He stood up, passing me to pour the remainder of his coffee down the drain. 

Even now, he’s so pretty I can’t stand it. Before he walked past me, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, leaning in to kiss him. He gave in after hesitating for a moment, wrapping his arms around my neck.

“You don’t have to leave,” I said in a whisper after I slowly pulled away from him. 

“Kaito,” He sighed, “I don’t know what your deal is. Every time I think I’m figuring you out, you shut down again. Are you doing this on purpose? Do you think I’m just some ignorant kid or something?”

“I don’t think that.” 

“Then stop pushing me away. It’s pissing me off.”

There’s no way for me to reply without conjuring up a lie. It would be easier to just tell him that I would be willing to tell him everything about myself, only to leave out some of the most important and intimate parts of my life. This would leave behind the gap I try to forget every day with mundane existence, and eventually, he would notice that gap too. 

What use would it be to tell him, anyway? To have him turn away from me like the others did? He was too young to understand. 

_ I was younger than him when it happened _ . 

He took my silence as compliance, satisfied enough to change the subject. “Don’t go to that concert. I’ll be furious.” 

With that, he left for work. I made myself another cup of coffee for myself, then sent a message to Miku to let her know I would, against my better judgment, attend.

…

Len left the night we argued to go back to his apartment. In the days that followed, he stopped by a few times after work, but we barely said a word to one another. Those visits stopped a few days ago when I told him I would be going to the concert. I hadn’t heard from him at all since, and I couldn't bring myself to pester him about it. I cringed at the thought of reaching out to him to receive something spiteful in return. 

The time passed, and Saturday eventually rolled around, and I was carted to the concert by Gakupo and Gumi, who were too busy with calls to say much to me.

I had never been to this venue before. It was a large, stadium-like place that must have housed more than a thousand people. I suspect there were more than that here at the moment, based on what I could see far above the audience in the suite. 

Miku’s group was to be on stage in ten minutes. I was able to watch the stage from a large window that divided the show's executives from the fans. This also allowed me to observe the crowd without having to interact with them; their ability to enjoy such a mediocre opening act was fascinating. 

It was surreal to be here. I would have never considered it in the past, the mere thought of it absurd. I was a classically trained musician that had performed for years, in venues much larger than this. I couldn't help but feel like I was doing something irredeemable. It made my stomach drop in both shame and excitement. I felt like an insolent teenager again, trying to rebel against my parents with a misguided angst. In reality, I am an immature adult, and the only person disappointed in me was my boyfriend. This was less exciting and more pathetic than anything else.

I tried to ground myself in the present, but the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I became. It was a bit awkward to be in this suite with the people that managed Miku. They were all speaking to one another about the business aspect of music. I never understood this aspect of the industry since I had always been a musician exclusively. I had a manager of my own that took care of everything for me. It hurt to think of him at the moment; where was he now? Did he ever recover from my insolence?

I shook my head to get him out of my mind. I used the tidbits of conversations floating around the room as a distraction.

I was tempted to find someone to strike up a discussion with. Miku was sweet enough to introduce me to everyone in the room. They seemed like decent people, but I couldn't convince myself to make small talk with any of them. Admittedly, I was a little intimidated by their suits and cool demeanors. Instead, I would have to be content to silently watch the stagehands set up for the main act.

I toyed with the glass of expensive champagne in my hand, trying to see how far I could tilt it without spilling it. The glass had been handed to me a few moments ago by a server that seemed too high strung. The champagne was a bit dry and unappealing, but it gave my hands something to do. It was better than the alternative: continuing to pick at my fingers until they bled. I would have preferred a cup of coffee, but I wasn't in a position to complain.

As soon as the stage cleared, the musicians entered, and my eyes found Gakupo immediately. I wasn’t close enough to make out his every detail, but I could tell it was him helping Gumi and Luka set up. This was the most exciting thing to have happened all night.

I had never been able to appreciate him in this kind of voyeuristic way in the past, as much as I would have liked to. From the safety of the suite, surrounded by distracted strangers, I could observe him. He was laughing at something Luka said to him as he tuned his guitar. He was favoring his left leg over the right. He was wearing a little too much eyeliner.

I shouldn't have been so eager to see him. I was here for Miku, after all. Despite that, I secretly hoped that he thought of me too, content to be spied upon.

I could have continued watching him for the rest of the night, but soon, the opening act took the stage. The crowd roared, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the waving of their arms. 

Now that Miku stood at the center of the stage, I felt my interest in the show beginning to wane. I should have known this would happen. I don’t know what I had expected; I don’t like pop music in the first place, yet here I was. Hopefully whatever happened  _ after  _ the show would be worth the trouble. 

Instead of listening to her, I focused on the frilly costume Miku was wearing. I began losing myself in the thoughts of seeing Len in such a costume instead. He would look awfully cute in something so sickeningly sweet. That satisfied me more than the opening of the concert.

I began to drift deep into an unwarranted daydream, unaware that someone had taken a seat beside me. I ignored them, assuming they took the seat because it was free. I stared off into the distance until the stranger said my name to catch my attention. 

I begrudgingly recognized the voice immediately. I turned, finding Kiyoteru, who also had a glass of champagne in his hand. I should have greeted him like a functional human being, but I asked him what he was doing here instead.

“I came to see the show.” He replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his champagne while he glanced out the window.

We were silent for a few awkward moments. My tongue was too heavy to say anything. The last time I had seen him, I left abruptly. I hoped I would never see him again, but of course, something that convenient would never happen. Rather than initiating small talk, I opted to do everything in my power not to make eye contact with him. 

He spoke again without looking at me. “I visited with Tonio on Tuesday to leave my work phone number with him, but I have a suspicion he didn’t tell you to call me.” 

Tonio did tell me that he had seen Kiyoteru, but I was too disturbed to even consider contacting him. Rather than calling him back, I ignored the situation, hoping he would forget that we had ever met. Why would I have ever expected that? I’ve never had very good luck. 

He continued without a reply from me. 

“It’s fine, I have you here now, after all.” From the monotone of his voice, this comment almost seemed threatening. “We need to talk.”

“About?” I stared into my glass, watching the carbonated bubbles float to the top of what remained of my champagne.

“You haven’t been honest with me.”

My heart began to race; he couldn’t know, could he?

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about—.” I tried to stutter out a response, but I found myself unable to think of any other words to hide my concern. 

“Your surname isn’t Saiki, is it?”

I had been through this exact situation hypothetically for years. Every time I had ever considered what I would do in this situation, I froze, like I had now. It was impossible to resolve without dropping the topic completely, but I suspected Kiyoteru wouldn't allow that. 

“Yes, it is. Would you like to see my I.D.—?”

“Your  _ real  _ name is  _ Shion  _ Kaito, isn’t it?”

It took me at least a minute to manage a response.

“How did you know that?”

There was no shift in his expression. He remained as stone-faced as ever as he continued.

"I had suspected as much," He finished his glass and placed it on the floor beside his foot. "I needed to confirm it before we continued. I wanted to bring it up with you previously, but you didn’t allow me to ask. I mentioned the last time we met that I have a proposition for you-."

"How did you know my name?" I repeated, trying to remember if I had met him before the incident. With an ordinary face like his, recalling such information seemed impossible.

"We can discuss the details of that later. I'm not interested in having this conversation among strangers." He motioned to the executives that surrounded us in the suite. "Though, I can give you an idea. I didn't properly introduce myself the last time we met. My full name is Hiyama Kiyoteru."

I could feel the color drain from my face.

He gave me a small, smug smile. "You recognize it."

Hiyama. Oh god,  _ Hiyama _ . Those eyes should have been a dead give away, but I realize now that I had never actually looked at Kiyoteru in the eye. I had quickly brushed him off as someone that didn’t matter; that was a terrible mistake to have made.

"Now that my suspicions have been confirmed, I would like to discuss business with you. You don't have any other appointments, do you?" While his expression remained neutral, his sarcasm was biting. 

“What do you want from me?” I could barely control the pitch of my voice. My mind incapable of doing anything other than panicking. "What is the proposition?"

"I want you to work exclusively with my band,  _ Ice Mountain _ . We’re about to sign with a label, and I want you on the contract as well." He said it as if it wasn't a big deal, as if he was asking me to lunch. 

"What makes you think that I would be of any use to you?"

"Well, I know quite a bit about  _ Shion  _ Kaito. If you are him, then you're a rather talented musician. One of the best. I need someone so versatile."

When I didn't reply, he continued. 

"We’ll be signing contracts with the label at the beginning of next year. I'm currently drafting a contract for you as well."

"I'm not performing professionally anymore," I spoke in a whisper, but I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs to try to release the tension that weighed down my rib cage. There was something about his relaxed demeanor that infuriated me to no end. 

"It didn't appear that way at the show a few weeks ago." 

I had a suspicion something like this would happen. I should have been more careful. Even though the show was small, there was still a risk of something getting out. This interaction only confirmed that.

"That was only a favor to a friend. I'm not interested in joining a group. I'm sorry to disappoint you—."

"You're rejecting me rather quickly for someone that went out of their way to hide their family name." He slid closer to me, resting his arm on the backrest of the couch, pulling me closer to him by my shoulder.

I glared at him, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't handle rejection very well. I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate this getting out again. Especially with how close you’re getting to Miku and Gakupo. Imagine how much it would mar their reputation to be associated with  _ you _ ."

_ Oh god, he was right. _

I needed to leave. The closest exit was behind me, but I couldn’t remember the way out of the venue. With my terrible sense of direction, I would end up cornered by him if I tried to make a swift exit. 

“Can we speak about this at a later time, please? I can’t think straight at the moment.” I slipped out from his arm and shifted closer to the armrest of the loveseat, trying to make space between us on a piece of furniture that wasn’t spacious in the first place.

“I need your phone number, then.”

“Fine.” I felt weak and defeated, unwilling to find any excuse to avoid this. 

He pulled out his phone and saved my contact information under  _ Shion _ , which made my stomach turn. 

“I’m going to call you tomorrow. Please, try to determine when would be the best time to meet again, within the next week, if possible.” 

“Right.” I couldn’t bring myself look at him. I resorted to staring out the window to watch the performance that had already started. Everything sounded so muffled and distant. I wasn’t sure if there was a performance going on before me or if my mind was trying to create a distraction for itself. 

"Don't look so distressed." He handed his half-full champagne glass to the waiter that handed them out. "I wouldn't try to coax you into something you couldn't handle."

"If you do know who I am," I spoke as quietly as I could, "You know my reputation. It will weigh your band down."

"Petty social drama is never a way to gauge a person's usefulness. We’ll work around it with a better stage name."

The fact that he knew what happened and brushed it off in the way he did was strangely comforting, but did nothing to wash away my uncertainty. He was too intense; his cool disposition leaving me on edge every moment he was near. He must know everything to have been able to recognize me, and knowing that he had that kind of power over me made ill.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. I need to speak with someone else before the night is through.” He stood up without saying another word. 

Considering the content of the conversation, I felt a sense of dread for having spoken about it in public. It was a relief to find that everyone else in the room seemed too engrossed in the performance. The likeliness of them having heard this conversation was low.

When I saw that Kiyoteru was speaking to someone else, I downed the rest of my champagne and brought the glass to the man that handed it to me. I then asked him where the nearest restroom was, found it, and proceeded to throw up the champagne mixed with my anxiety and shame for the rest of the show.

...

“We’re going to meet Miku at a club not too far from here, are you interested?” 

Gakupo smelled like foreign cologne and was wearing dark smudged eyeliner as he walked me out of the VIP suite towards the exit, his guitar case in between us. 

“Yes, please,” I replied mechanically, trying to hide how hoarse my voice was. I wanted water or coffee, but at this rate, even shitty alcohol would work to wash away whatever compelled Kiyoteru to do what he did. 

I was terrified to mention any of it to Gakupo, in fear of causing some kind of rift between us. Instead, I needed to stay out late with him tonight. The thought of going home sober and alone terrified me, plagued with delusions that Kiyoteru was watching me at all times, collecting more evidence to use against me and manipulate me into doing whatever he wanted. 

When we were outside, Gakupo pulled me into an alley that was formed between the venue and its storage locker. He pulled a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket, lit the cigarette, then stared at me for a few moments, silently. 

He looked tired, his stage makeup only concealing the bags under his eyes from a distance. When I stood directly next to him, I could see the discoloration and set lines that I had seen before the last show. 

“You don’t look like you should be going out.” He said finally after taking a seemingly endless drag of his cigarette. 

“I don’t know what that is supposed to mean.”

“What happened during the show?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—.”

“You look like someone beat the shit out of you.”

I felt like someone beat the shit out of me, too. My chest hurt from dry heaving for over an hour and my head throbbing, but now wasn’t the time to discuss this. 

“I’m a little under the weather,” I shrugged, picking at the peeling paint on the venue's brick wall. “I’ll feel better in a bit.”

“You’re not a very good liar, dear,” He brushed the hair off my forehead, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. “You’re not running a fever, but you are clammy. Have you eaten anything?”

“I didn’t realize that I asked for your concern, mother.” 

He smiled at me, clicking his tongue as he brought his hand from my forehead down to pinch my cheek. “Don’t be so quick to brush this off. I’m serious; if you're not feeling up to it we can do something else. I wouldn’t mind going back to my place.”

It was a tempting proposition. He made it obvious that he was interested in spending time with me, which left me inappropriately giddy. I wouldn’t mind spending the whole night alone in Gakupo’s apartment with him, but I had a feeling I would get as equally drunk and have more of an opportunity to say or do something stupid. 

“No, I’d rather go out.” 

“Whatever you say.” Half of the cigarette remained unsmoked, but he threw it to the ground and snuffed it with his boot. “Say the word and we’ll leave, yeah?”

…

I should have expected this place to be obnoxious and loud.

I didn’t catch the club’s name, but I could tell it must have been popular based on the line to get in. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure why; the club itself was far from any major streets and looked rather dull from the outside. I never would have given it a second glance if I were by myself. At this point, though, if Gakupo were to drag me into a slaughterhouse, I would still follow him without any hesitation. 

I expected to have to wait at the end of the line, but all Luka had to do was flash the bouncer a sweet smile, tell him we were here with the Hatsune party, and we slipped into the venue without so much as a sideways glance. 

It was packed; everyone was forced to press up against one another to get through the place. If Gakupo didn’t make a point of taking ahold of both Luka and I by our hands, I would have gotten lost in the sea of people long before we managed to find the private booth in a dark corner that Miku had sneakily rented for the evening. 

She and the other idols she performed with were already there with Gumi, who had taken a taxi with them. I wasn’t sure how they made it here before us, since Gakupo, Luka, and I had taken the first taxi out, but I didn’t have the time or energy to consider exactly how they had managed it. 

Immediately, Miku pulled me down next to her and served me a shot of whatever was at the table. I took it graciously, listening to her go on about the show that I hadn’t seen. Her enthusiasm was certainly contagious, though, making the loud situation a little bearable. That, and the fact that I was able to sit so close to her and Gakupo at the same time while ignoring everything else that was going on around me. 

She introduced me to her groupmates, and I awkwardly shook their hands from across the table, but they were too engrossed in their conversation with Gumi that they couldn’t be bothered to direct their attention to us for an extended period. 

“What did you think of the show?” Miku asked, pouring me another shot.

“It was great,” I lied, taking the shot as quickly as I could, hoping to drown the actual events of this evening. “You looked fantastic.”

Her face lit up in a way that I didn’t fully understand. “Really?”

“Of course,” I leaned in towards her, a little tired of raising my voice, “Really. You’re extremely talented.”

She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The alcohol had already begun to sweeten my words. “You did me a huge favor with the suite access. It would have been impossible to watch you without it.”

“There were a lot of people there tonight, huh? I didn’t realize how many people five thousand was until we got on stage.”

“Is that how many there were?” I leaned in, more than content to humor her for a bit. 

“Yep, we were at complete capacity!” I didn’t register that she had hooked her hand in my own until just now. “I’m so glad you were able to see it. I’ll get you a ticket for the next one too, I promise.”

“I’d love that.”

I was tempted to continue talking, hoping to cement my lies, but Gakupo grabbed my shoulder and pulled me towards him. 

“We’re going to the bar to grab a couple more bottles. Come with us.” There was an urgency in his voice that led me to follow him without objection, pulling away from Miku despite her light protest. 

I wasn’t looking forward to making it through this crowd again, but at least we were on the edge, making it a little easier to inspect the venue. A DJ was playing obnoxious electronic music that the crowd seemed to appreciate. Most of the people here were young and so underdressed that any wrong move would lead to indecency, which I suspected was the point. I didn’t blame them; this seemed much more exciting than staying in on a Saturday night. 

Gakupo had a hold onto my wrist as we tried to follow Luka to the bar that seemed to be about fifty feet away. She stopped before she got to the bar, tilting her head to the side as we began to catch up to her. I hadn’t expected her to turn so quickly towards us, but when she did, she frantically began pushing Gakupo back. 

“Gak, get Kaito out of here,  _ now _ .”

It took me a few seconds to realize she had said my name, and even longer to orient myself, but when I was able to finally get my bearings, I could see why she had said that and why Gakupo had suddenly begun trying to pulling me in a different direction.

At the bar, much to my horror, was Len, making out with his coworker, Fukase. I was frozen to the spot, unable to fully process what was happening. Within that time, Fukase looked in our direction, his expression mirroring my own. Slowly, Len turned his head, looked at me, and immediately bolted for the door. 

When I was finally able to control my legs, I followed after him, ignoring Gakupo’s attempt to keep ahold of my arm. I was able to slip from his grip, and immediately made my way through the crowd of people Len was artfully dodging. I could hear both Gak and Luka calling out to me, but I couldn’t stop; if I wasn’t careful, I would lose in him this crowd.

Len was able to get out of the club before I could catch up to him. I had to take a moment to figure out what direction he had gone, but I was able to see him just as he turned a corner to an empty street. 

I ran after him, calling out his name as he began to slow down. With that, I was finally able to close the space between us enough to grab his arm and turn him to face me. 

“What the  _ hell _ , Kaito.” He pulled away from me, trying to straighten out his shirt. “Don’t chase me like that. You look like a creep.”

“What was that?” Maybe it was because I was already emotionally exhausted, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. My only response was to ask him questions to gain clarification. I wasn’t even angry; I was confused. 

“Why do you care? Weren’t you too busy tonight anyway?” He wouldn’t look at me; he instead turned his attention to a car that passed by, illuminating him in its headlights. 

“Are you seeing him?” I asked, trying not to think of how lovely he looked this evening. He was made up in a way that I had never seen before, wearing something that I could only imagine initially belonged to his sister. He looked as pretty as a doll. 

He cursed, taking out his cellphone, “I’m not in the mood for this. I’ll call you tomorrow.” His defiance and nonchalant attitude was becoming a bit irritating. 

“No,” I impulsively grabbed the phone out of his hands, “This can’t wait until tomorrow. Why were you doing that? Why did you do that to me—?”

“ _ Maybe _ ,” he took his phone back before raising his voice before continuing, “It’s because you’re meeting  _ that  _ tattoo artist when I’m not with you?” he pointed behind me with an unnerving amount of spite.

I started to ask him how he came to that conclusion, but he interrupted me, “I saw the messages. If you wanted to be sneaky, you shouldn’t have left your phone out, or at least deleted the evidence. Where is that  _ tattoo _ , Kaito? Are you hiding it or are you hiding something else?”

I wanted to tell him all of that was about a tattoo, but I knew that at this rate, it was a lie. I wasn’t intending to do anything than spend time with Gakupo. At this rate, he knew me better than I thought he did. Christ, he knew me better than I knew myself. 

“You’re awful,” Len shook his head, his voice shaking, “I can’t stand you. You’re a hypocrite and a jerk. I never want to see you again. I hope you’re happy with that creep.” he looked past me and yelled, “ _ He’s all yours, asshole _ .”

He turned his back to me and began to walk away. I called out to him, planning to follow him, to fix this, but when someone behind me grabbed my shoulder to stop me, I stood there, watching him walk down the street, making a call on his phone as he turned the corner. 

“Kaito,” Gakupo turned me towards the opposite direction, wrapping his arm around my own, “Let's get you home. I’ll call a taxi; what’s your address?” 

“I don’t want to go home,” I snapped, a little too riled up to be nice about it.

“This isn’t the time to stay out. Let’s go to my apartment, then. I’ll tell the girls that-.”

“No,” I turned him towards me, grabbing his arms and forcing him to stop before he turned the corner. “I need to drink. I need to drink a lot. All night, where it’s loud and I can’t think straight.”

He stared down at me, obviously surprised by my sudden aggression, but he didn’t say anything. He only stood there, his surprised expression turning to one of pity. 

“Stop, please,” I loosened my grip on him, but my hands remained there as I tried to keep my balance. The alcohol would begin to kick in soon with this empty stomach and my headache began pounding against my skull. “I don’t want to think about all this.”

“I’m worried about you, Kaito.” He brought his hands up to my head, running his fingers through my hair, leaving them tangled there as he continued, “Please, we can drink together at my place, at least. Whatever you want, I’ll get it for you.”

“You can’t give me what I want right now, Gak.” The words slipped through my lips before I could filter them.

“What do you want?”

“ _ You _ .”

Even in my overemotional state, I regretted saying it. This wasn’t the time or place for this, but a part of me wanted him to feel the same way. I had been cheated on and I  _ desperately  _ wanted to get equal. After all, this is what Len thought was happening in the first place, right? I could just indulge in my now ex-boyfriend’s delusions and kiss my new-found object of affection while he was here, egging me on. 

For the first time since I had met him, Gakupo was speechless. He didn’t have some coy or clever response for this. I watched his jaw tighten, then release, as he opened his mouth to say something, anything. 

“You…” Gakupo then sighed, slipped his hands down to my cheeks, “I can’t give myself to you right now. This isn’t the time.”

I wanted to laugh at my discomfort, but I settled for rolling my eyes. “I know.”

“I’m sorry-.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” I shook my head, wishing that I could stop snapping at him like that. “I’m being unreasonable. Look, let’s go back in, alright?”

He stared at me again, but nodded, dropping his hands. “Okay. Whatever works for you.”

What would have worked for me would be fucking him tonight only to regret it in the morning, but I would have to settle for a terrible evening of inebriation and pushing down all of my feelings of doubt and insecurity while my ears were assaulted with electronic music. 

We walked back into the club without a word, slowly making our way through the crowd again. The last thing I remembered was ordering a shot of expensive whiskey and taking it before everything became hazy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was exhausting to write, and I spent an unreasonable amount of time editing it, but we're finally starting to get into the drama of this fic. Kaito had to suffer eventually, right? I'll probably have to make a few edits later, but for now, please excuse any grammatical errors you may come across.


	9. Chapter 9

“No, that’s okay, Kaito. Lean against me if you need to.”

It was quiet here, but where was _here?_ Where are we? When did we leave the club? I was just talking to Miku. She smiled at me. She has a smile that could light up the world.

Meiko used to smile at me like that when she turned towards me while I played for her. She sang lyrics about tragic lovers. Is that what we were? Is that how she saw us? 

How did _Len_ see us now? Was there an us, or was I always the _other._ Had he been seeing that coworker for long? Did the coworker know about me? 

There’s something warm on the palm of my hand, and I try to look before me, but everything is dark. I lean in and there’s the same warmth on my mouth, then in my mouth, against my teeth.

It lasts for a few fleeting moments before I mutter something incoherent to myself.

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

Worry about it. Where was Kiyoteru? Was he watching me from this unfamiliar place? A part of me wanted him to see me. To see whatever it was I was doing at that moment.

“We can’t go further than that.”

Go further. He always wanted me to go further. I was ten, then thirteen, fourteen… Then it all fell apart at twenty. I could still feel his hands lingering.

I’m saying something again. I can hear the words _please_ and _want_ repeated so many times I feel like my mouth could never utter them again. 

Everything is warm again. Against my neck, it trails done to my chest, then lower.

Why would he cheat on me? I didn’t do it to him, as much as I would have liked to. I wanted to so badly, and it was worse that I could have. I was a bad person for wanting to so desperately, but I wasn’t the bad guy in the end. I think. They said. He said. 

Where are my hands? Wrapped around something, someone.

Where’s Miku? Gumi? Luka? Kiyo… 

“We shouldn’t do this, you’re drunk.”

I’m so drunk. So incredibly drunk. How many shots was it? They got heavier as the night progressed. Sometimes they were sickly sweet. I think Miku must taste like a sweet mix of vodka and syrup. Gakupo’s mouth tastes like jasmine and rose.

When would Hiyama call me? Would I hear his voice again, so softly in my ear with company, in the next room? There was always someone to avoid, to be quiet about.

“Lay down. You keep falling over.”

There’s a moan that follows the sentence, followed by panting. Is that me? I feel heaving in my chest. Something is building up. 

“Another time; I already have to explain the bruises.”

I think I’m lying on my back, but even in the dark, everything is spinning. My brain is rolling; where is it going? Far away from here.

Where is here? Where am I? 

…

I hear what sounds like an old alarm clock blaring, causing me to bolt up, my heart pounding nearly as hard as my head. 

It’s dark, and I can barely make out the figure beside me desperately reaching out to stop the source of the noise. A cell phone’s screen flashes on, illuminating Gakupo’s arm as he checks the time, then turns to me.

“It’s nine; do you have anywhere to be today?”

I lay back down, unable to bear the vertigo. “No, I work from home on Sundays.” My throat is so dry that I couldn’t be sure that it was my voice that I heard.

He hums a sound of affirmation before, he places the cell phone back on the bedside table and shifts back into his place wrapped in the duvet.

As my eyes adjust to the low light they trace the tattoos that run along his shoulders down his back. They’re the same ones that are on his chest, though these seem lighter, the color of the ink less bold the black. 

We’re in his room, his bed. I’m surrounded by the smell of him; I don’t know how he manages to smell like a garden like this. It’s so strong that if it were anyone else lying next to me, I would have suffocated. 

I call out to him, and he turns to me. His eyes are red, framed by the terribly smudged eyeliner. If I wasn’t so close, I would have thought he had two black eyes. He tried to look at me through the irritation, but he’s blinking, pushing through what must be exhaustion. Even now, when he looks miserable, he’s so damn beautiful.

“What is it, dear?”

I ask the first thing that comes to mind, “Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t remember,” I sighed, “But, I feel like I should be apologizing for something.”

He smiles lazily as he reaches out to squeeze my arm, “You don’t have to apologize for anything. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m hungover.” I bring my hand up to his a bit mindlessly, tempted to pull his palm up to my cheek.

“Physical pain is a brilliant distraction from emotional pain.” As if he read my mind, he brought his hand to my face, running his fingers along my jaw. “Sleep it off. You’ll feel better in a few hours.” 

I can only nod as I begin to doze off again, comforted by the pressure of his fingers as they creep down to my neck. 

Everything about Gakupo’s bed is comforting; his bedroom is cool, the heavy curtains on the windows keeping the morning sun at bay. His duvet is soft, nearly as soft as his flannel sheets. The silk pillowcase is a welcome relief from the heat pooling in my face from hyper focusing on how close he is to me. I could have been sleeping on a concrete slab and I still would rest happily so long as I could sneak quick glances at him as he began to fall asleep again.

Just as I feel myself drifting back into a deeper state of unconsciousness, another tone goes off, this one much more irritating than the previous one. 

Gakupo groans, and turns away from me again, reaching out for his phone. He curses as he picks it up and answers it.

I watch as he sits up and tries to pay attention to the person on the other end, though he seems too drowsy to comprehend. I focus on the way his hair drapes around his shoulders as he tries to run his fingers through it to get it out of his face. 

“Yeah, I get it,” he sounds irritated as he stretches his arms above his head, “Can you send their manager to the studio later? Tell him to bring the contract and we’ll figure it out then. I’ll be there at seven for an appointment… Yeah, that works. I’ll talk to him then. Ciao.” 

He throws the phone to the end of the bed and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “What kind of terrible manager calls you early in the morning to discuss business after a show?” 

“Yours, apparently.” I knew it was a rhetorical question, but to have him turn his attention to me again with that sly smirk on his mouth was worth the social indecency. 

He reaches over to pat my leg a bit aggressively, “You’re _so_ funny, Kaito, maybe you should become a comedian.” He stretches again, then continues, “Now that I’m awake, I’m going to go pick some coffee up from _Milky_. Do you want yours black?”

“Please.” I wrap myself tighter in his blankets, hoping to hide my eyes enough to keep him from noticing that I’m trying to stare at his bare chest in the low light as he stands and walks to his closet. 

“Great,” He retrieves a few articles of clothing then returns to the bedside, “I’ll be back in a bit. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up before your coffee gets too cold.”

“I appreciate that.” I’m a bit disappointed when he walks out of the room as I’m saying this, leaving me alone in his bed. To be surrounded by him while he wasn’t there was strange, but at least somewhat comforting. I could only imagine how torturous it would be to have woken up in my own bed this morning, able to pick out hints of whatever sugary body wash Len uses on every surface of my apartment. 

My mind recalls what transpired before I blacked out as I heard the front door of Gakupo’s apartment shut. I saw Len making out with a stranger at a club I usually wouldn’t even consider entering. I’m sure he knew that with the ease he slipped into to express such displays of affection publicly. Then again, he was the type not to shy away from the opinion of a crowd. He liked to tease me for my distaste of such activity. 

That idea forces me to recall the face he made when he realized he had been caught. There wasn’t an expression of horror or regret that crossed it when he first made eye contact with me; it was one of disgust. 

My stomach lurches; I’m not sure if it’s from my shame or my hangover. I don’t recall if I had eaten anything since before the concert last night, but I suspect that I didn’t. It’s an act I couldn't help but secretly revel in; I deserved to feel like this. From my break up to the vague threat from Kiyoteru, I shouldn’t wake up feeling comfortable. 

With my mind this clouded, I had nearly forgotten about the offer that Kiyoteru had forced on me. I bitterly laughed at Gakupo’s ceiling, wishing that I had taken Len’s demand that I not attend the concert more seriously. I could have avoided seeing both Kiyoteru and Len if I had just stayed home. In fact, I could have spent the evening with Len instead while distancing myself from this new group of people I had found myself associating with. This would have made it easier to get over my infatuation with the tattoo artist I found myself tangled up with, if anything. Instead, I was in the bed of the same damn artist, exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. How pathetic.

I forced myself to sit up to find my phone, managing to grab it from my pants that were crumpled on the floor next to the bed. At some point I had taken them off to replace them with a pair of pajama pants that my host must have offered. 

My phone still had a bit of battery left, though I’m surprised with how many notifications I had. 

They started at midnight: a picture message from Miku. I was sitting next to her in every one, my arm around her shoulder, unaware that she was taking a photo as I appeared to be having a conversation with Gakupo across from me. There was a message at 12:30 from Gakupo asking where I was. At 3:00, there was a message from Miku, asking if we had gotten to Gak’s yet, and another a few minutes later from a number that turned out to be Luka’s number asking the same question. Then at 8:00, 8:15, 8:30, 8:45, 9:00, and at 9:15, I received a phone call from the same number. He said he would call me, but that was a bit relentless.

I could block the number now and do my best to avoid Kiyoteru, but I had already confirmed his suspicions, and if I tried to escape him, I’d crawl even deeper into my cave, destroying every attempt I had made to live a normal life again. He would personally see to it that I would do nothing but grovel at his feet if I wasn’t complaint, I’m sure. 

I would need to get back to him eventually. I didn’t really want to call him back this early in the morning, but it would probably be easier if I got this out of the way. It was close enough to 9:30 that it was possible he would be calling in a few minutes, so I took it upon myself to call him back myself before I somehow gave him the upper hand again.

I dialed the number again, listened to it ring a few times with the hopes that he wouldn’t answer, and was begrudgingly met with “I assumed you wouldn’t get back to me this soon.”

“You called me six times—.”

“Are you available to meet today?”

I try to find comfort in rubbing my face against the pillow Gakupo slept on last night as I considered my response carefully. I’m never going to be available to meet with him. Not mentally, at least. 

“Where?” I respond after a few moments, trying not to prompt a snarky response from him.

“My apartment. I’ll be here all day.” He replied. I could hear someone speaking in the background. 

“Will we be alone?” I hope that I’m able to control the irrational fear in my voice.

“I would assume so. I’m not expecting any visitors in the late afternoon, if you’re able to meet with me. Do you want me to invite someone?”

“No, I don’t.” I snapped, knowing that he would make a biting remark if I wasn’t careful. “I want you to know that I’m not signing anything.”

He sighed, taking a few seconds to respond. “Fine. I still want to go over the contract with you, even if you’re determined to wear on my patience. What time can you be here?”

While I didn’t want to leave Gakupo’s apartment, I considered what he had said in the phone call he made earlier. “Seven.”

“I didn’t take you for the type to want to meet so late to discuss business.”

“I’m busy. My life doesn’t revolve around you.”

He sighed again, “Seven it is. I’ll text you the address and let the front desk know you’re coming. Don’t be late.”

“Fine.”

Then he hung up. It wasn’t a long call, but it still manages to leave me unsettled. Over the phone he has the same voice as—.

I tossed my phone on the floor, trying to sit up in the process. My head still ached terribly and the vertigo was making me nauseous enough to try to figure out what door the bathroom was behind again. 

As my head began to settle a bit, my thoughts became a little less hazy. I tried to pull up last night’s memories, but everything was still a blur, only a few still images materializing. Miku laughing at Gumi. The interior of a taxi. The hallway of Gakupo’s apartment. Nothing useful. 

How much did I drink? It had to have been a nearly toxic amount to forget everything like I had. I could imagine I stopped counting shots as soon as I sat at the table again. Why would I care about alcohol poisoning when I could drink myself into a coma to avoid everything awful that had occured? I laughed, not sure of what else to do to release some of my unease.

It felt a little sick to have such morbid thoughts while I was alone in a stranger’s home like this. I should just leave, but I would have felt guilty to have Gakupo waste his money on me.

I tried to stand up, but I stumbled a bit, realizing that maybe I wasn’t quite as sober as I believed I was. The room’s spinning, and I can’t help but give up, falling to the bed again, burying myself in the duvet to drift back to sleep again, imagining my host running his fingers along my neck again. 

…

I can hear my name being called, but I keep clinging onto the comforting darkness of my sleep, drifting along the cusp of consciousness. 

When I finally succumb to the voice, I open my eyes to see a much cleaner, less exhausted looking Gakupo. 

“Good morning, dear.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon.” He sat on the end of the bed near my feet, “Your coffee is pretty much ice cold, but you wouldn't wake up earlier, so I figured I’d let you sleep everything off a bit more.”

I could feel myself drifting off to sleep again, but he shook my leg. “Not to be a mother hen, but you haven’t eaten anything since the show, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.”

I stumbled over my words, trying to find a way to convince him that I was fine, to let me sleep a little longer, but he was relentless, moving to help me up before I could find a way to voice my objection. 

“I went out of my way to buy you scones, so you’re going to get up and eat them.” He pulled me up by my arm, managing to pull me to my feet as I protested, “You’re still buzzed, aren’t you?”

“When did I stop drinking?” I tried to stand up on my own, but like earlier, the vertigo was too overwhelming, and I had no choice but to lean against him. 

“Four. We had two shots before bed since I didn’t drink to make sure we got back here in one piece.” He led me to the living room, sitting me down on one of the couches. I was tempted to curl up and fall asleep again, but I knew he wouldn’t let me before he walked over to the kitchen. 

On the table, there was a plate of dry pastries that I couldn’t even consider stomaching. I brought my knees up and rested my chin on them, considering how I would manage to avoid eating something so unappetizing. They had blueberries in them, maybe that could be the lie? That I was allergic? But, then again, I couldn’t risk having to keep up such a miniscule lie for the remainder of my time with Gakupo. Maybe I could leave and say I’d eat once I had gotten home, then I’d take the train back, sleep until I had to take the train again to meet with Kiyoteru. 

It seemed like a better plan; I could leave now and stop overstaying my welcome in what was virtually a stranger's home. How childish and ignorant was I going to allow myself to be? I’m far too old to be bothering someone so busy with my trivial life concerns. If I would cease my incessant immaturity, I would leave this strange friendship developing between the beautiful tattoo artist and I, ensuring that my past wouldn’t rear its ugly head again. 

The thought of never speaking to Gakupo again, though, was nearly as miserable of a thought as having him find out who I had been. I don’t know why I had grown so attached to him, but a part of me retched to consider moving on and cutting ties. Admittedly, I hadn’t felt feelings like this in such a long time that they were unfamiliar all over again. Attachment wasn’t like me; I’m icy and cold, unwilling to properly expose myself to anyone. This was idiotic and borderline maddening. 

I’m staring at some print on the wall with pink flowers as Gakupo takes a seat next to me, handing me an almost-tacky ornate mug. 

“I heated it up, so i can’t imagine it’s as good as it could have been.” I watch him lean back into the couch, draping his arm on the back rest as he sighed deeply. He has such a wonderful profile, even with the dark bags under his eyes, his dull skin, and those marks on his neck—. 

I choke on the small sip of coffee I was taking as I gasped at the dark bruises.

He bolts up, patting my back as I put the coffee on the table before us, trying not to spill it as I try to catch my breath, the choking turning into strained laughs. 

“You alright?” He smiles, shifting his patting to rubbing slow, long circles. 

“Your neck—.” I manage to get out, “What are you, fifteen?”

He raises an eyebrow as his smile fades, evidently confused by my comment. 

“The hickeys—.”

“I know,” he brings his hands up to run his fingers along the marks. “I don’t understand why you find them so funny.” 

“I can’t imagine Luka giving them to you, that’s all.”

“She didn’t. _You_ did.”

The smile on my lips falls instantly, any humor I found in the situation turning to cold, terrifying realization. 

“You don’t remember? You were so determined to give them to me on the cab ride home.” I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I feared that it might be a mix of disappointment and a little irritation. 

Maybe this would be the time I finally fell apart and died of embarrassment once and for all. 

I stumbled over words, trying to search my memories for something, anything, to give me any indication that I had a coherent string of thoughts that led me to do that. That wasn’t something I did, at least I wasn’t the kind to bite— _Shit_ , I was the kind to bite someone. Of course, sober, it would have to be in a particularly intimate situation, but drunk… This was wrong, so terrible wrong. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I had already slapped myself enough mentally for being so forward last night before I blacked out, but at least I could have contributed that to the rush of emotions I had felt. But, those… 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—.”

“Nope,” He shook his head, his expression softening a bit, “Stop apologizing, Kaito. I’m not upset with you. A little disappointed about your memory lapse, that’s it. What do you remember?”

I reeled again, grasping onto those meager snapshots of thoughts that I couldn't fully identify. Just laughing faces and blurry images of places I had been.

“Nothing.” I said, trying not to panic. 

His expression fell again, though this time it seemed a little bittersweet. “I shouldn’t have stayed sober…”

“What happened, Gak?”

“We were so close to…” His laugh was dry, “You kissed me, in the cab on the way home. Then, we kissed quite a few more times before you fell asleep. In fact, we almost—.”

“Fuck.”

I couldn't remember any of that. I tried again, looking for anything that would even resemble kissing him, feeling him, _anything_ . Then something hit me. I could taste it. I could taste him. The roses and jasmine flowers. Oh god, we nearly _fucked_. 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.” I tried to stand up, trying to push past the spinning room and the pounding of my brain against my forehead, hammering nearly as loud as my heart in my ears. “No, no, we couldn’t have. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Kaito, sit down, please. You’re going to pass out if you keep hyperventilating like that.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me down closer to him. 

“Gakupo, I don’t remember any of this. There’s just no way—.”

“Well, _I_ remember it. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

I’m trying to stop myself from shaking, the room growing so cold I couldn't breathe deeply enough to warm my chest or melt the lump in my throat. 

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling my head towards his chest. “Hey, please, you need to calm down. You’re scaring me a bit.” 

This can’t be right. All of it was wrong, so incredibly wrong that it hurt every fiber of my being to exist in this moment. To be this close to him. To smell the same flowers on his skin that seem to bloom in his mouth. To have him willingly wrap his arms around me like this. It wasn’t possible. 

_But it had to have happened_. Why would he lie about something like that? That kind of deformation of character wasn’t worth a joke or some kind of ammunition he could hold against me later.

I manage to swallow down a bit of my anxiety, enough to begin considering what I could do to remedy this situation.

We couldn’t lie that it hadn’t happened. The evidence was there, etched into the skin I could see from the corner of my eye. What would he tell Luka? What would _I_ tell Luka? 

_Oh, you know, I just gave your boyfriend a slew of hickeys causally. In a friendly way. Because we’re friends. That’s what we are. Friends._

This was the exact kind of behavior I had wanted to avoid for the remainder of my life. I had enough scandal for a lifetime as it was, and while this would be considered a minor infraction compared to the other one, I couldn’t bear the thought of it.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, unsure of what else to do at this moment. Despite the logical response of pulling away and leaving, I wanted to be closer to him. I selfishly wanted to take any opportunity to be near him, to feel him. 

We sat in silence for a while, the anxiety eating away at the fabric of my reality, making my vision blurry. 

“I’m not upset with you. I told you that. I thought that’s why you had asked me that question earlier.” He wraps his arms around me a bit tighter. 

I pulled away from him a bit, to see the expression on his face, to try to figure out what was going on and why everything had come to this in the first place. 

It was that stupidly lovely face of his. The same face that looks at me so tenderly I want to melt in his arms. I would give anything to stay like this forever, still, unmoving, but growing so warm that I could feel my heart beating consistently again. 

I was falling for him. I was falling so hard, so quickly that I hadn’t fully realized it yet, that is, until this moment.

I didn’t know him at all. I didn’t know where he was from, what his favorite color was, why he was so willing to kiss me back last night. But, I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything about him. 

He tries to say my name, but he can’t finish it before I bring my lips to his, finally able to recall the feeling of kissing him again. My head spins again with the sudden, intense movement, but I push past it, relishing in the relief that he’s kissing me back. 

My hands snake up his shirt, pressing into the soft skin of his back, warm against my palms. His hands move up to my face, the tips of his fingers digging into my jaw, almost clumsily.

He pulls away, only to whisper my name, to open his eyes to catch mine, then close them to pull me back in. His tongue runs along the bottom of my front teeth, which unintentionally mash into his as I try to consume every inch of his mouth that I could. 

I’m on top of him at this point, pushing him on his back, moving down to the side of his neck that I hadn’t gotten to last night, determined to match the bruises I had already left. 

He says something, but I don’t catch it. It’s drowned out by the low moan that comes from the back of his throat. 

I’m working on the buttons of his shirt and he begins to pull mine over my head. I let him, more than happy to crash against his mouth again, pleased to feel his chest against mine, to see the full extent of his tattoos this close. I move to run my mouth along his shoulders, then down his chest, leaving light kisses along his scar. 

His breath is heavy, and as I move lower, he makes a noise that almost sounds like a whine sends shivers down my spine. He’s just so beautiful, I can’t stand it. 

I’m down to his hips, his hands in my hair, and just as I try to unbutton his pants—.

“Wait, stop.”

My eyes flick up to his, my hands freezing in their spot. His face is as flushed as I assumed my own was, his tired eyes half-lidded, but he has a pained expression. 

“We can’t do this.” He sighs, leading my mouth back to his for a moment, two short pecks, before he sighs again. “We have to stop. Now.” 

I nod, slowly pulling myself away from him, sitting back down on the opposite side of the couch, trying to register what had just happened. 

He stands up and walks back into the kitchen silently. I hear him shuffling around, but I can’t tell what he’s doing. 

I grab my mug of coffee and sip at it, realizing that it had started cooling off a bit. I wished it would have been hotter. I need a distraction— anything— to get rid of the rush of emotions I was feeling at the moment. 

It felt so good to kiss him, to actually feel him flushed against me, but now that we had stopped, I couldn’t help but feel the same guilt from before wash over me again, knowing that I had somewhat soberly kissed him. There were no excuses, no ways to skirt around the issue here. It was terrible, but it _felt so damn good that I couldn’t fully hate myself for it._

I still feel hungover, on the borderline of dry-heaving onto the faded carpet beneath my feet, but I will myself up, sipping down the rest of my coffee, then stumbling slowly back into the bedroom to try to change into my jeans rather than the pajama bottoms Gakupo lent me. 

It would be best for me to get home, but just as I’m managing to get my pants on one leg, my host comes in to stop me. 

“You’re not going home like this. You’re going to end up unconscious in public somewhere. Just stay here, Kaito.”

“I shouldn’t stay here, Gak.”

“And you shouldn’t leave, either. At least lay down for a bit, please. We need to talk before you go anywhere.”

I want to argue and make a scene, but I can’t. The only thing I can do is comply, lying down again and falling asleep before I could even consider leaving again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I had initially tagged this as a slow-burn story? I’m sorry. 
> 
> Gakupo’s disaster is also showing.


End file.
